THE  RED  MIST 


"I  demand  to  know,  first  of  all,  where  you  got  possession  of  that 

Third  U.  S.  Cavalry  uniform" 

[Page  172} 


THE  RED  MIST 


A  Tale  of  Civil  Strife 


BY 


RANDALL  PARRISH 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

ALONZO  KIMBALL 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 

1914 


Copyright 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1914 


Published  September,  1914 


Copyrighted  in  Great  Britain 


9.  3.  Ifall  Printing  Otompanu 

(£l?iragn 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     ON    SPECIAL    SERVICE i 

II  AN  UNWELCOME  COMPANION    ....  13 

III  THE  BODY  ON  THE  FLOOR 27 

IV  INTO  THE  ENEMIES'  HANDS    ....  39 
V  I  JOIN  THE  FEDERAL  CAVALRY     ...  49 

VI    THE    NIGHT    ATTACK 60 

VII     SHELTER  FROM  THE  STORM 70 

VIII  THE  MISTRESS  OF  THE  HOUSE    ....  83 

IX  ARRIVAL  OF  PARSON  NICHOLS     ....  96 

X    THE  JAWS  OF  THE  TRAP 109 

XI    WHAT  WE  OVERHEARD 123 

XII    THE     RECOGNITION 137 

XIII  WAITING  THE  NEXT  MOVE 150 

XIV  A  MARRIAGE  BY  DURESS 162 

XV  BEFORE  LIEUTENANT  RAYMOND     ,     .     .  172 

XVI     A  PRISONER 183 

XVII     I  CHOOSE  DEATH 194 

XVIII    UNDER  DEATH  SENTENCE 206 

XIX  THE  ONE  PATH  OF  ESCAPE    ....  217 

XX     I  MAKE  Two  PRISONERS 230 

XXI    THE  LADY  CHOOSES 242 

XXII     A    STEP    NEARER 254 

v 


Contents 


VI 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII  THE  RAIDERS  PASS 267 

XXIV  THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CABIN 280 

XXV  WE  UNDERSTAND  EACH  OTHER    .     .    .  293 

XXVI  THE  CANE  RIDGE  MEETING  HOUSE    .    .  306 

XXVII  WITH  BACKS  TO  THE  WALL    ....  318 

XXVIII  THE    TRAP    CLOSES 330 

XXIX  WE  DRIVE  THEM 343 

XXX  A  WAY  OF  ESCAPE 353 

XXXI  THE  END  OF  DEFENSE 369 

XXXII  WITH  NATURE'S  WEAPON 381 

XXXIII  THE  TRAIL  TO  COVINGTON 393 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

"  I  demand  to  know,  first  of  all,  where  you  got 
possession  of  that  Third  U.  S.  Cavalry  uni- 
form "  Frontispiece 

The  book  fell  to  the  floor,  her  hand  gripping  the 

pistol 84 

"  You !  "  she  exclaimed.     "  You  here  —  and  free ! 

What  —  what  have  you  done  to  these  men  ?  "    236 

A  big  fellow,  with  ragged,  untrimmed  hair,  and  a 

scraggly  beard 284 


THE  RED  MIST 

A  TALE  OF  CIVIL  STRIFE 


CHAPTER  I 

ON    SPECIAL    SERVICE 


T  WAS  already  growing  dusk  when  the 
Staunton  Battery  of  Horse  Artillery 
returned  wearily  to  camp  after  hours 
of  hard  field  drill,  the  men  ever  con- 
scious that  no  evolution,  however  trivial,  was  being 
overlooked  by  "  Stonewall  "  Jackson,  sitting  astride 
his  sorrel  on  a  little  eminence  to  the  left,  his  stern 
face  unrelieved  by  even  the  semblance  of  a  smile. 
He  would  criticise  without  mercy,  but  never  praise, 
and  the  artillerymen  insensibly  stiffened  to  the  work, 
as  eager  to  do  well  as  though  they  were  in  action. 

The  time  was  early  spring,  some  remnants  of 
snow  still  clinging  to  the  hollows  out  of  reach  of 
the  warming  sun,  and  a  chill  wind  blowing  through 
the  passes  of  the  western  mountains.  The  com- 
parative idleness  of  the  past  winter  months,  given 

1 


The  Red  Mist 


over  to  foraging  and  drill,  together  with  the  com- 
forts of  a  permanent  camp,  had  engendered  forget- 
fulness  of  the  hardships  of  the  last  campaign,  and 
left  the  men  eager  to  confront  the  dangers  of  the 
future.  In  no  heart  was  there  doubt  of  the  final 
result  —  the  Army  of  the  Valley  pinned  its  faith 
on  "  Old  Jack."  They  were  soldiers  —  veterans 
already  —  anxious  for  active  service;  their  depleted 
ranks  filled  up  once  more  with  recruits,  well  drilled 
and  efficient  through  constant  training;  and  while 
many  remembered  with  regret  the  old  faces  —  the 
dead,  the  wounded,  the  missing  —  they  nevertheless 
realized  that  never  before  were  they  in  sterner  mood 
or  better  prepared  for  grim  fighting. 

The  winter  quarters  of  the  Staunton  Artillery 
were  slightly  off  the  main  road,  back  within  the 
shelter  of  a  grove  of  oak  trees,  and  I  remained  for 
some  time  overseeing  the  care  of  the  horses  before 
approaching  the  hut  where  the  non-commissioned 
officers  had  mess.  We  were  all  of  us  still  at  the 
table,  discussing  the  incidents  of  the  drill,  when  a 
lieutenant  appeared  suddenly  in  the  doorway,  and 
glanced  inquiringly  about  the  room,  scarcely  able  to 
distinguish  our  faces  in  the  dull  light  of  the  lantern 
which  alone  illumined  the  interior. 

"  Sergeant  Wyatt"?  "  he  inquired  briefly. 

I  arose  to  my  feet. 


On  Special  Service 


"  Here,  sir,"  I  answered  in  some  surprise. 

"  You  are  requested  to  report  to  General  Jackspn 
at  once." 

"  At  Winchester,  sir*?  " 

"  No;  his  headquarters  for  tonight  are  at  Coulter's 
farm,  on  the  dirt  pike.  You  will  ride  your  own 
horse." 

I  endeavored  to  circle  the  others,  and  thus  reach 
the  door  in  time  to  ask  further  questions,  but  was 
too  late;  the  lieutenant,  his  message  delivered,  had 
already  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  I  stared  after 
him  in  perplexity.  What  could  Jackson  possibly 
want  of  me?  On  whose  recommendation  had  I  been 
thus  singled  out  for  special  service?  How,  indeed, 
had  the  commanding  general  even  learned  my  name  *? 
I  stood  hesitating  in  the  open  door,  listening  to  the 
hoof  beats  of  the  officer's  horse,  my  mind  filled  with 
wonderment.  But  I  was  a  soldier,  thoroughly  dis- 
ciplined, and  orders  must  be  obeyed.  The  pause, 
the  doubt,  were  but  momentary.  Five  minutes  later 
I  was  guiding  my  own  horse  down  the  same  dark 
road,  bending  low  in  the  saddle,  obsessed  with  a 
feeling  that  this  mission,  whatever  it  might  turn  out 
to  be,  promised  a  change  in  my  fortunes. 

It  was  an  ugly  path,  rutted  deep  by  artillery 
wheels,  and  dangerous  for  the  horse.  On  either  side 
glowed  the  blaze  of  camp  fires,  and  the  sound  of 


The  Red  Mist 


voices  could  be  heard.  One  group  was  lustily  sing- 
ing songs  of  the  South,  and  I  passed  a  shop,  the  door 
wide  open,  the  farrier  busy  shoeing  cavalry  horses, 
their  riders  lounging  idly  without. 

I  was  an  hour  reaching  the  dirt  pike,  although  the 
distance  was  not  great,  and  I  knew  the  way  well. 
There  I  encountered  infantry  pickets,  who  became 
more  vigilant,  and  inquisitive,  as  I  approached  closer 
to  the  Coulter  house.  This  was  a  double  log  cabin, 
erected  in  a  grove  of  trees,  some  fifty  feet  or  more 
back  from  the  road,  and  surrounded  by  a  slab  fence. 
A  squadron  of  cavalry  were  encamped  in  the  yard, 
their  horses  saddled,  and  tied  to  the  palings,  while 
the  lights  gleaming  through  the  windows,  together 
with  the  dying  glow  of  a  fire  to  the  right,  dimly 
revealed  a  group  of  men  clustered  on  the  front  porch. 
It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  I  made  my  way 
through  the  obstructing  guard  to  the  foot  of  the 
steps,  where  an  officer,  whose  face  was  indistinguish- 
able, took  my  name,  and  repeated  it  to  an  orderly 
stationed  at  the  closed  door.  The  latter  disappeared 
in  a  sudden  blaze  of  light,  and  I  stood  there  silently 
in  the  shadows  waiting. 

Ten  minutes  must  have  elapsed  before  the  door 
opened  again,  and  I  heard  my  name  called.  The 
group  of  waiting  officers  fell  aside,  and  I  passed  in 
between  them,  unable  to  recognize  a  face.  Once 


On  Special  Service 


within  I  glanced  curiously  about  the  bare  room, 
noting  its  occupants,  and  their  rude  surroundings. 
It  was  a  rough  appearing,  commonplace  interior, 
the  log  walls  once  whitewashed,  but  now  streaked 
with  dirt,  the  only  furniture  visible  a  few  home- 
made chairs,  and  an  ordinary  kitchen  table.  A 
sturdy  fire  burned  in  the  fireplace,  and  three  lamps 
illumined  the  scene,  revealing  the  presence  of  five 
men,  among  whom  I  instantly  recognized  Ewell, 
Ashby,  together  with  Jackson,  and  his  chief  of 
staff.  The  fifth  occupant  of  the  room  sat  alone  in 
one  corner,  his  face  partially  concealed,  revealing 
little  other  than  a  fringe  of  gray  whiskers.  Jackson 
and  his  aide  were  seated  behind  the  table,  which 
was  littered  with  papers  and  maps,  and  as  the  former 
glanced  up,  at  the  announcement  of  the  orderly,  I 
came  instantly  to  attention,  my  hand  lifted  in  salute. 
The  general's  stern  blue  eyes  surveyed  me  intently. 

"  Sergeant  Wyatt,  Staunton  Artillery'?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  long,  may  I  ask,  have  you  been  in  the 
service*?  " 

"Since  May,  '61,  sir." 

"  Ah !  indeed.    And  your  age*?  " 

"  Twenty-four,  sir." 

He  made  some  remark  aside  to  the  aide,  who 
nodded  back,  and  pointed  to  a  map  before  them. 


The  Red  Mist 


'  You  are  a  younger  man  in  appearance  than  I 
had  expected  to  see,  Sergeant,"  Jackson  said  slowly. 
"  Yet  I  have  learned  within  the  last  year  to  have 
confidence  in  young  men.  War  is  a  swift  developer 
of  manhood.  Your  colonel  speaks  of  you  in  the 
highest  terms,  and  informs  me  that  you  are  a  native 
of  Green  Briar  County." 

"  Our  home  was  at  Lewisburg,  sir." 

"  Then  you  are  doubtless  intimately  acquainted 
with  that  section?" 

"  Very  well,  indeed,  General." 

Jackson  sat  motionless  and  in  silence  for  what 
seemed  a  long  while,  his  grave  eyes  on  my  face,  but 
his  mind  evidently  elsewhere,  one  hand  uncon- 
sciously crumpling  a  folded  paper.  Ashby  moved 
his  chair,  causing  it  to  crunch  noisily  on  the  floor, 
and  the  commander  aroused  at  the  unusual  sound. 

"  By  any  possibility  are  you  related  to  Judge  Joel 
Wyatt?  "  he  questioned  slowly. 

"  He  was  my  father,  sir." 

"  I  thought  it  was  not  improbable.  There  is  a 
noticeable  resemblance,  and  I  recall  he  lived  west 
of  the  mountains.  I  knew  your  father  in  Mexico. 
Is  he  still  living?  " 

"  He  has  been  dead  two  years." 

"  I  regret  to  hear  it.  Your  mother,  unless  I  am 
mistaken,  was  a  Farquhar,  of  North  Carolina*?  " 


On  Special  Service 


"  Yes,  sir  —  she  has  returned  to  her  old  home." 

"  The  best  of  southern  blood,  gentlemen,"  he  said 
smilingly,  glancing  toward  the  others,  but  with 
watchful  eyes  instantly  returning  to  scan  me. 
"  Was  she  driven  out  of  Green  Briar  by  the  state  of 
unrest  in  that  section?  " 

"  In  a  measure  —  yes,"  I  replied  promptly.  "  It 
was  hardly  safe  for  her  to  remain  there  alone.  The 
county  is  filled  with  Union  sympathizers,  and 
roamed  over  by  bands  of  guerrillas,  claiming  alle- 
giance with  both  sides,  but  sparing  no  one.  At  pres- 
ent, I  understand,  Federal  troops  have  been  sent 
there  from  Charleston,  and  are  in  control." 

"Your  information  is  partially  correct;  but  in 
order  to  perfect  plans  now  contemplated  I  require  a 
still  more  definite  knowledge  of  existing  conditions. 
I  need  to  know  accurately  the  number  and  distribu- 
tion of  the  Union  forces  in  Green  Briar,  and  also 
more  complete  information  regarding  those  irreg- 
ulars who  are  in  sympathy  with  us,  as  well  as  the 
character  of  their  leaders.  Judging  from  the  rec- 
ommendation given  you  by  Colonel  Maitland  I  felt 
that  you  were  peculiarly  adapted  to  render  this  serv- 
ice. However,  Sergeant  Wyatt,  I  propose  stating 
plainly  that  this  may  prove  an  exceedingly  dangerous 
detail,  and  if  you  decide  to  accept  it,  it  must  be  done 
as  a  volunteer." 


8  The  Red  Mist 


He  paused  questioningly,  and  I  drew  a  quick 
breath,  realizing  suddenly  the  seriousness  of  the  sit- 
uation, and  the  importance  of  my  decision. 

"  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  go,  sir." 

"  I  have  felt  little  doubt  as  to  that,  but  I  wish 
you  to  comprehend  clearly  that  we  can  offer  you  no 
protection  if  your  secret  mission  is  discovered." 

"  I  so  understand,  General  Jackson,  I  know  the 
usages  of  war,  but  this  is  not  a  question  of  danger, 
but  of  duty.  You  desire  that  I  depart  at  once?  " 

Ewell  broke  in  impatiently  with  his  high  pitched 
voice. 

"  May  I  ask  if  it  be  generally  known  in  Green 
Briar  that  you  are  enlisted  in  the  Confederate 
service  *?  " 

"  To  but  very  few,  sir,"  I  answered,  turning  to 
look  across  at  my  unexpected  questioner.  "  To 
none  I  am  at  all  likely  to  encounter.  My  mother 
and  I  left  the  county  at  the  first  outbreak.  My 
father's  affiliations  were  with  the  Union  element." 

"  Most  fortunate.  Nothing  could  be  better,  Gen- 
eral Jackson.  The  sergeant  can  very  safely  travel  as 
a  Federal  officer  in  search  of  recruits.  The  matter 
of  papers  can,  of  course,  be  easily  arranged." 

Jackson  turned  toward  his  aide. 

"What  Federal  troops  are  now  garrisoning 
Charleston,  Swan?" 


On  Special  Service  9 

"  An  Ohio  brigade,  with  a  regiment  of  Pennsyl- 
vania cavalry.  There  is  also  a  company  of  heavy 
artillery  outside  the  town." 

The  commander  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand. 

"  I  would  like  to  suggest,  sir,"  I  ventured  to  say 
respectfully,  "  that  General  EwelPs  plan  be  adopted. 
I  think  I  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  assuming  the 
role." 

"  You  are  willing  then  to  assume  the  risk*?  "  He 
looked  at  me  gravely.  "  It  may  eventually  mean  a 
drum-head  court-martial,  and  death  as  a  spy." 

"If  I  fail  —  yes,  sir;  but  this  method  surely 
offers  the  greatest  possibility  of  success." 

"  I  can  clearly  perceive  that,  but  it  was  not  my 
original  plan  to  send  you  into  the  lines  of  the  enemy 
in  Federal  uniform.  However  General  Ewell's 
judgment  is  probably  correct.  Have  you  a  late 
Army  List  there,  Colonel  Swan?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  issued  the  fourteenth."  He  turned  the 
pages  slowly,  leaning  forward  to  the  light.  "  Here 
is  a  Lieutenant  Raymond,  Third  U.  S.  Cavalry, 
reported  on  recruiting  detail.  His  regiment  is  sta- 
tioned at  Fairfax  Court  House." 

"  He  will  answer  as  well  as  any  other.  It  is 
scarcely  probable  the  man  would  be  known  in  that 
remote  section.  What  is  the  full  name?  and  where 
is  he  from?" 


10  The  Red  Mist 


"  Charles  H.;  appointed  from  Vermont." 

"  Is  this  choice  satisfactory  to  you,  sergeant"?  " 

"  Perfectly,,  sir." 

"  You  are  prepared  to  depart  immediately?  " 

"  As  soon  as  I  can  be  furnished  with  the  necessary 
papers  and  equipment." 

"  Colonel  Swan  will  arrange  the  first,  and  the 
quartermaster  can  doubtless  supply  the  other  re- 
quirements. Orderly,  have  Major  Kline  step  in  here 
at  once.  Ah,  Kline,  have  you  among  your  trophies 
of  war  a  Federal  lieutenant's  uniform  which  will 
probably  fit  this  man?  " 

"  I  believe  so,  sir,"  and  the  officer  addressed  ran 
his  eyes  appraisingly  over  my  figure.  "  Any  particu- 
lar regiment?  " 

"  Third,  United  States  Cavalry.  Have  it  pressed 
and  sent  here  at  once,  securely  wrapped,  together 
with  saber  and  revolvers.  Where  is  your  horse, 
sergeant?  " 

"  Tied  to  the  palings  outside.  " 

"  Do  you  desire  a  better  mount?  " 

"  No  sir,  the  animal  is  fresh,  and  a  good  traveler." 

"  Then  that  will  be  all,  Kline;  except,  of  course, 
complete  Federal  cavalry  equipment  for  the  horse." 

The  officer  saluted,  and  disappeared,  the  door  in- 
stantly closing  behind  him,  cutting  off  the  hum  of 
voices  without.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 


On  Special  Service  11 

"  You  had  better  retain  your  present  dress  until 
after  you  leave  the  valley,"  counseled  Jackson, 
slowly.  "  Swan  will  furnish  you  with  a  pass,  which 
should  be  carefully  destroyed  after  passing  our 
pickets  at  Covington.  It  will  be  of  no  service  to  you 
beyond  that  point.  My  best  wishes  for  your  suc- 
cess, Sergeant  Wyatt." 

He  stood  up,  and  I  felt  the  firm  grasp  of  his 
hand.  Then  Ashby  gripped  my  shoulder. 

"  Wyatt,"  he  said  kindly,  "  if  you  ever  desire  to 
change  your  arm  of  the  service,  you  are  the  kind  of 
man  I  want  to  ride  with  me." 

I  smiled  in  appreciation,  but  before  I  could 
answer,  the  man  who  had  been  sitting  silently  in  the 
corner  arose,  and  stood  erect  in  the  light.  The  gleam 
of  the  lamp  instantly  revealed  his  face  still  shadowed 
by  the  wide  hat  brim,  the  firm,  bearded  chin,  the 
gravely  smiling  eyes. 

"  General  Ashby,"  he  said  with  quiet  dignity, 
"  Sergeant  Wyatt,  I  am  sure,  performs  this  impor- 
tant duty  without  thought  of  reward.  It  is  the  South 
that  has  need  of  such  men  in  every  branch  of  her 
service."  He  came  forward,  and  extended  his 
hand  cordially. 

"  I  am  General  Lee,  and  am  very  glad  to  greet,  and 
wish  God  speed  to  the  son  of  Judge  Wyatt.  If 
you  return  in  safety,  you  will  report  to  me  in  person 


12  The  Red  Mist 


at   Richmond.     General   Jackson  will   so  arrange 
with  your  battery  commander." 

They  were  all  upon  their  feet,  standing  in 
respectful  attention.  I  murmured  something,  I 
scarcely  knew  what,  bowing  as  I  backed  toward  the 
door.  And  this  was  Lee  —  Robert  E.  Lee  —  this 
man  with  the  kind,  thoughtful  face,  the  gentle  voice, 
the  gravely  considerate  manner.  And  he  had  greeted 
me  in  words  of  personal  friendship,  had  spoken  to 
me  of  my  father.  I  know  I  straightened  to  soldierly 
erectness,  every  pulse  thrilling  with  a  new  resolve. 
A  moment  I  stood  there,  my  eyes  on  the  one  face 
I  saw  before  me,  and  then  went  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. The  orderly  closed  the  door. 


CHAPTER  II 

AN   UNWELCOME  COMPANION 


T  WAS  in  the  chill  of  a  cold,  gray  morn- 
ing that  I  rode  into  Strasburg,  jogging 
along  at  the  rear  of  a  squadron  of  Fifth 
Virginia  cavalrymen  who  chanced  to 
be  headed  for  the  same  place.  These  found  quarters 
in  the  town,  but  I  proceeded  a  mile  or  more  south  on 
the  valley  pike,  until  I  reached  a  cabin  hidden  behind 
a  low  hill,  and  so  surrounded  by  a  dense  growth 
of  scrubby  trees  as  to  be  nearly  concealed  from 
observation.  Only  a  chance  glance  in  that  direction 
had  revealed  its  presence,  but  its  very  look  of  deso- 
lation instantly  attracted  me.  Here  was  a  place 
to  rest  quietly  for  a  few  hours  in  safety.  I  turned 
my  willing  horse  aside,  following  an  ill-defined  path 
through  a  tangled  mass  of  shrubbery,  until  I  attained 
the  door.  The  building  was  a  single-roomed  cabin, 
exhibiting  marks  of  age  and  neglect,  yet  still  intact, 
heavy  wooden  shutters  barring  the  windows,  the 
door  closed  and  securely  fastened.  The  place  to 
all  appearances  was  deserted,  and  had  been  for  a 
long  while.  Although  situated  scarcely  a  hundred 

13 


14  The  Red  Mist 


feet  back  from  the  valley  turnpike,  which  was  never 
without  its  travelers,  and  along  which  armies 
marched  and  counter-marched,  the  surroundings 
were  those  of  a  remote  wilderness.  I  bent  .down 
from  my  saddle,  and  rapped  sharply  on  the  wood. 
There  was  no  response  from  within,  not  even  when 
I  struck  more  heavily  with  the  butt  of  a  revolver. 
There  was  a  faint  trail  leading  about  th^  corner, 
and,  grown  curious  and  impatient,  I  dismounted, 
and  leading  my  horse,  pressed  a  difficult  passage 
through  the  bushes.  To  my  surprise  the  rear  door 
stood  slightly  ajar,  and  my  eyes  perceived  the 
movement  of  an  ill-defined  shadow  within. 

"  Hello,  there !  "  I  called  out,  yet  instinctively 
drawing  a  step  backward.  "  Is  there  any  room  here 
for  a  tired  man*?  " 

The  tall,  angular  figure  of  a  mountaineer  im- 
mediately appeared  in  the  doorway,  and  a  gray, 
wrinkled  face,  scraggly  bearded,  looked  forth,  the 
eyes  glinting,  and  filled  with  suspicion. 

"  Wus  it  you-all  poundin'  at  the  door1?  " 

"  I  knocked  —  yes." 

"  Knocked !  Ye  made  noise  'nough  ter  raise  the 
dead." 

"  It  seems  I  didn't  raise  you." 

"  I  want  lookin'  fer  no  visitors.  Wai,  who  be 
ye?  an'  whut  do  ye  want  yere*?  " 


An  Unwelcome  Companion  15 

"  I  am  a  soldier,"  I  replied,  rather  shortly,  not 
particularly  pleased  with  either  the  man's  appear- 
ance or  manner.  "  Myself  and  horse  are  about 
worn  out.  I  mistook  this  for  a  deserted  cabin." 

"  Wai,  it  ain't  precisely.    Are  you  Confed4?  " 

"  Of  course  —  no  Yank  would  be  along  this 
pike." 

"  I  ain't  so  blamed  sure  o'  thet.  Whar  be  ye 
bound*?  an'  whut  may  ye  be  up  to  a  travel  in'  alone"?  " 

I  smiled,  endeavoring  to  retain  my  temper. 

"  See,  here,  friend,"  I  returned  shortly.  "  I  have 
as  much  reason  to  ask  you  such  questions  as  you 
have  me.  However,  I  am  willing  enough  to  answer. 
I  am  on  furlough,  and  am  going  home  across  the 
mountains  to  see  my  folks." 

"  Whar  to4?  " 

"  Over  Beckley  way." 

"  The  hell  ye  are !  Don't  ye  know  the  Yanks  are 
all  through  the  kintry  now?  They'll  gobble  ye  up 
afore  ever  ye  git  to  New  River." 

"  Oh,  I  reckon  not  —  I  know  that  section,  and 
where  to  hide  out.  That  is  why  I  am  going  back 
there  now.  Do  you  know  Raleigh  County?  " 

The  man,  who  was  now  standing  upright  in  the 
doorway,  one  hand  gripping  the  barrel  of  a  musket, 
the  early  morning  light  on  his  withered  face,  stared 
unwinkingly  into  my  eyes. 


16  The  Red  Mist 


"  I  rather  reckon  I  do,  young  man,"  he  replied 
slowly.  "  Fur  I  was  raised  up  on  the  Green  Briar. 
What  mout  be  yer  name1?  " 

"  Cowan,"  I  answered  promptly,  my  mind  in- 
stantly alert,  and  aware  I  had  made  a  mistake." 

"  Ho!  Ye  don't  say!  One  o'  ol'  Ned  Cowan's 
boys?  " 

"  No.  I  am  a  son  of  Widow  Cowan,  over  on 
Coal  Creek." 

There  was  not  the  faintest  glimmer  in  the  cold, 
blue  eyes,  no  evidence  of  any  recollection  in  the 
wrinkled  face.  His  jaws  rose  and  fell  on  the 
tobacco  which  extended  his  cheek. 

"  I  don't  reckon  I've  been  over  that  a  way  fer 
nigh  on  fifteen  year,"  he  said  at  last  reflectively. 
"  An'  somehow  I  don't  just  recall  no  Widow  Cowan 
—  but  I  know  ol'  Ned  mighty  well.  He's  took  to 
the  brush  with  his  whole  breed  since  this  fracus 
started,  an'  som'  cusses  burned  his  house,  an'  sent 
the  ol'  woman  after  'em.  It's  plumb  hell  in  Green 
Briar.  Maybe  yer  a  Cowan,  but  I'm  damned  if 
ye  look  like  eny  o'  thet  outfit  ever  I  see  afore.  What 
part  o'  the  army  wus  ye  with?  " 

"  Sixty-fifth  Virginia  —  Covington  Company, 
Captain  Daniels." 

The  older  man  chewed  awhile  in  silence,  evidently 
impressed  with  the  seeming  frankness  of  the  reply. 


An  Unwelcome  Companion  17 

"  Wai,  ye  mout  be  a  Cowan,  o'  course.  I  ain't 
takin'  no  sides  on  thet  fer  I  don't  know  all  ther 
breed,"  he  admitted  reluctantly.  "  Enyhow  I 
reckon  it  don't  make  no  great  difference,  fer  if  ye 
be  goin'  ter  Green  Briar  we  kin  ride  awhile  tergether. 
Two  is  better  than  one  these  days.  Hitch  yer  hoss 
out  thar  in  the  sciub  along  side  o'  mine,  an'  then 
come  in  yere.  We'll  eat  a  bite  fust,  an'  then  lie 
down  a  spell,  fer  I've  been  a  ridin'  most  o'  ther  night 
myself." 

His  voice  was  hardly  as  cordial  as  his  words 
sounded,  but  I  felt  it  best  to  accept  the  rather  surly 
invitation.  I  led  my  horse  down  the  dim  path  indi- 
cated, until  I  came  to  where  the  other  animal  —  a 
rangy,  ill-groomed  sorrel  —  was  securely  hidden.  I 
had  blindly  stepped  into  a  trap,  but  just  what  kind 
I  could  not  as  yet  determine.  I  must  win  the  man's 
confidence,  and  learn  what  I  could.  The  fellow, 
whoever  he  might  prove  to  be,  was  evidently  in 
concealment  —  but  for  what  reason1?  Was  he  de- 
serter? or  spy*?  And,  if  it  was  true,  as  he  claimed, 
that  he  was  also  bound  for  the  Green  Briar,  how 
was  I  to  easily  avoid  traveling  in  his  company?  To 
refuse  would  arouse  suspicion  at  once,  and  might 
plunge  me  into  greater  peril.  Yet,  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  we  did  continue  to  consort,  how  was  I  to  con- 
ceal my  real  purpose  and  identity?  Once  we  were 


18  The  Red  Mist 


in  the  neighborhood  of  Lewisburg,  my  impromptu 
claim  of  being  a  Cowan  would  be  easily  exploded.  I 
had  assumed  that  particular  name  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  chancing  to  remember  there  was  such  a 
family  prominent  along  the  Green  Briar,  but  the 
deception  would  be  very  apparent  so  soon  as  we 
crossed  the  mountains.  Even  now  I  had  grave 
reason  to  doubt  if  I  had  actually  deceived  this  man 
by  my  sudden  invention.  There  had  been  a  look 
in  those  glinting  blue  eyes  that  told  of  cunning 
suspicion.  However,  at  present  nothing  remained 
but  to  play  out  the  game  and  thus  gain  all  the  ad- 
vantage possible.  Whoever  the  man  might  prove  to 
be  —  spy,  scout,  bushwhacker,  or  deserter  —  beyond 
all  question  he  possessed  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
country  lying  beyond  the  Alleghanies.  He  knew  the 
existing  conditions  there,  and  was  acquainted  with 
the  people.  Once  his  confidence  could  be  fully 
secured,  providing  his  sympathies  were  with  the 
cause  of  the  South,  as  was  most  probable,  his  infor- 
mation would  be  of  the  utmost  value.  And  surely, 
if  we  journeyed  together,  there  would  be  some  reve- 
lation of  his  identity,  his  reason  for  being  where  he 
was,  and  the  side  he  espoused  in  the  quarrel.  Ret- 
icent as  he  was,  suspicious  and  close-mouthed,  a 
silent,  typical  mountaineer,  he  could  surely  be  in- 
duced to  let  fall  some  scrap  of  information.  And 


An  Unwelcome  Companion  19 

somewhere  along  the  way  an  opportunity  must  surely 
arise  whereby  I  might  escape  from  his  company, 
if  such  a  move  became  really  desirable.  The  fellow 
could  not  remain  on  guard  night  and  day,  and  once 
convinced  of  my  honesty  his  suspicions  would  natu- 
rally relax.  Revolving  these  thoughts  rapidly  in  my 
mind  I  returned  to  the  hut,  carefully  bearing  the 
bundle  containing  the  Federal  uniform  tucked  under 
my  arm.  The  gaunt  mountaineer,  busily  engaged 
in  preparing  breakfast  at  the  open  fireplace,  scarcely 
favored  me  with  a  glance  of  recognition,  but  began 
to  arrange  the  scant  supply  of  food  on  an  overturned 
box. 

"  Just  pitch  in,  an'  help  yerself,  Cowan,"  he  said 
affecting  a  cordiality  of  manner  not  altogether  nat- 
ural. "  Thar  ain't  much  of  it,  but  we'll  eat  whut 
we've  got,  an'  then  rest  awhile.  If  yer  a  goin'  ter 
travel  along  with  me  it  will  be  done  mostly  at  night 
til'  we  git  down  Covington  way." 

I  seated  myself  without  ceremony. 

"  You  are  in  hiding  then1?  "  I  asked  carelessly,  not 
even  glancing  up  at  the  expressionless  face  opposite. 

"  Wai'  not  exactly.  Thars  nuthin'  I'm  specially 
feered  of,  an'  I  reckon  it's  more  habit  than  enything 
else.  We've  grown  pretty  skeery  back  in  the  hills 
—  nobody  thar  knows  their  friends  f rum  their  ene- 
mies these  days.  Yer  liable  ter  git  popped  at  most 


20  The  Red  Mist 


eny  time,  an'  never  know  who  did  it.     Yer  ain't 
been  thar  lately,  I  reckon?  " 

"  No;  not  for  over  a  year." 

"  Things  has  changed  sum  since  then.  Nobody 
lives  ter  hum  eny  more.  It's  sure  hell  in  Green 
Briar  these  days  —  somebody  is  gettin'  kilt  every 
day  er  two.  The  cusses  travel  in  gangs,  murderin' 
an'  burnin'  from  one  end  o'  the  county  to  the  other." 
He  spoke  in  an  even  drawling  voice,  with  not  the 
slightest  show  of  emotion,  as  though  telling  an 
ordinary  bit  of  news :  "  Damned  if  I  know  which 
outfit  is  the  wus  —  the  Yanks,  or  the  Rebs." 

"  Which  are  you  with?  " 

"  Who,  me !  "  He  paused  in  his  bolting  of  food, 
and  gave  vent  to  an  unpleasant  laugh.  "  I  rather 
reckon  it  would  puzzle  the  Lord  Almighty  ter  find 
that  out.  I  don't  give  a  whoop  fer  neither  of  'em. 
I'm  fer  oP  Jem  Taylor,  an'  it  keeps  me  tolor'ble  busy 
tending  ter  his  affairs,  without  botherin'  'bout  no 
government." 

"  Then  your  name  is  Taylor?  " 

"  I  reckon  it  has  been  fer  'bout  sixty  years.  Thars 
a  slew  o'  Taylors  over  along  Buffalo  Crick,  an' 
som'  of  'em  are  Yanks,  an'  a  parcel  of  'em  are  Rebs, 
but  they  don't  git  oP  Jem  ter  take  nary  side.  At  that, 
I'm  gittin'  all  the  fightin'  I  hanker  arter.  Naturally, 
I'm  a  peaceful  critter,  if  th'  cusses  let  me  alone." 


An  Unwelcome  Companion  21 

"  Quieted  down  some  over  there  lately,  hasn't  it*?  " 

"  Not  thet  I've  heard  of." 

"  Why  I  understood  that  the  Federal  troops  from 
Charleston  were  in  control,  and  held  the  county*?  " 

"  Huh !  Thar's  a  rigiment  o'  blue-coats  at  Lewis- 
burg,  an'  a  few  cavalrymen  ridin'  ther  pikes.  Don't 
amount  ter  a  hill  o'  beans  as  fer  as  ther  boys  are 
concerned.  All  they  got  ter  do  is  go  further  back  in 
the  hills,  an'  be  a  bit  more  keerful.  I  reckon,  young 
man,  ye' 11  find  plenty  o'  deviltry  going  on  in  Green 
Briar,  if  ye  ever  git  out  that  away.  Wai,  thet's 
all  thar  is  fer  us  ter  eat,  an'  I'm  goin'  ter  take  a 
snooze." 

He  closed  the  door,  fastening  it  securely  with  a 
wooden  bar,  and  stretched  himself  out  on  the  floor. 
The  room  was  dark  as  the  only  window  was  tightly 
boarded  up,  and,  using  my  bundle  for  a  pillow,  I  lay 
down  also.  For  a  short  time  I  remained  staring  up 
through  the  dim  light,  thinking,  and  endeavoring  to 
plan  some  feasible  course  of  action,  but  there  was 
no  reason  to  remain  awake,  nothing  to  fear  imme- 
diately, for  his  heavy  breathing  was  evidence  enough 
that  Taylor  slept.  Slowly  my  heavy  eyes  closed,  and 
I  lost  consciousness. 

The  sun  was  below  the  mountain  ridge,  when  the 
heavy  hand  of  the  old  mountaineer  shook  me  into 
sudden  wakefulness.  I  had  aroused  once  during 


22  The  Red  Mist 


the  day,  and  lay  listening  to  the  sound  of  heavy 
wagons  passing  along  the  pike  —  a  strongly  guarded 
train  to  judge  by  the  voices  of  men,  and  the  thud 
of  steadily  marching  feet.  Ammunition,  no  doubt, 
destined  for  the  Army  of  the  Valley,  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  coming  campaign.  Then  my  eyes  had 
closed  again  in  dreamless  sleep.  With  nothing  left 
to  eat  we  were  not  long  in  preparing  for  departure, 
I  endeavoring  vainly  to  get  my  silent  companion  to 
converse,  being  rewarded  merely  by  grumbled  and 
evasive  answers.  Finally  I  desisted  in  the  attempt, 
content  to  follow  his  lead.  Taylor,  astride  his  sorrel, 
with  gun  resting  grimly  across  his  knees,  rode  straight 
through  the  brush,  away  from  the  pike,  down  the 
valley  of  a  small  stream.  In  crossing,  the  horses 
drank  their  fill. 

"  How  about  the  valley  road1?  "  I  asked  as  we 
climbed  the  opposite  bank. 

The  leader  glanced  back  at  me. 

"  This  yere  way  is  nigher,  an'  a  darn  sight  mor' 
quiet,"  he  answered  gruffly.  "  Soldiers  been  march- 
ing over  the  pike  all  day.  Mout  be  all  right  fer  yer, 
if  yer've  got  a  pass  —  but  I  ain't  got  none.  We'll 
hev'  good  'nough  ridin'  in  'bout  a  mile  mor'." 

"  You  are  aiming  for  the  cut-off1?  " 

"  I  be  —  yer  do  kno'  sumthin'  of  this  yere  kintry, 
I  reckon,  but  yer've  got  more  eddication  than  eny 


An  Unwelcome  Companion  23 

Cowan  I  ever  hooked  up  with  afore.  Yer  don't 
talk  none  like  mountin'  folks." 

I  drew  a  quick  breath,  sensing  the  return  of 
suspicion. 

"That's  true,"  I  admitted  readily.  "You  see 
I  went  to  school  at  Covington;  they  were  going  to 
make  a  preacher  out  of  me." 

"The  hell  they  wus!  "  and  he  chuckled  to  him- 
self. "  A  blue-bellied  Presbyterian  I'll  bet  a  hog. 
Their  the  ol'  stock  —  them  Cowans  —  hell  fire, 
infant  damnation.  So  you  wus  goin'  fer  ter  be  a 
preacher  —  hey  9  " 

"  That  was  the  program." 

Taylor  stared  into  my  face,  his  vague  suspicion 
seemingly  gone. 

"  Well,  I'll  de  damned  —  a  preacher." 

He  rode  on  into  the  dusk,  chuckling,  and  I  fol- 
lowed, smiling  to  myself,  glad  that  the  man's  good 
humor  had  been  so  easily  restored. 

We  were  fed  at  a  hut  far  back  in  the  foot-hills, 
where  an  old  couple,  the  man  lame,  were  glad 
enough  to  exchange  their  poor  food  for  late  news 
from  the  army,  in  which  they  had  a  son.  Then  we 
rode  on  steadily  to  the  south  along  a  deserted,  weed- 
bordered  road,  meeting  no  one  to  obstruct  our 
progress.  Earlier  in  the  war  the  Army  of  the  Kan- 
awa  had  passed  along  this  way  on  forced  march, 


The  Red  Mist 


and  the  ruts  left  by  battery  wheels  were  still  in 
evidence,  the  frozen  ridges  making  fast  riding  im- 
possible. There  were  no  villages,  and  only  a  few 
scattered  houses,  but  the  night  was  not  so  dark  as 
to  prevent  fairly  rapid  progress.  When  dawn  came 
we  were  to  the  west  of  Waynesboro,  in  broken 
country,  and  all  through  those  long  night  hours 
scarcely  a  word  had  been  exchanged  between  us. 
We  camped  finally  in  the  bend  of  a  small  stream, 
where  high  banks  concealed  us  from  observation. 
There  was  little  to  eat  in  our  haversacks,  but  we 
munched  what  we  had,  and  Taylor,  his  eyes  on  the 
horses,  broke  the  silence. 

"  I  reckon  the  critters  don't  need  mor'n  a  couple 
hours'  rest,"  he  said.  "  They  ain't  been  rid  noways 
hard,  an'  I'm  fer  gittin'  through  the  gap  durin' 
daylight  —  the  road  ain't  overly  good  just  now." 

"  Across  the  mountains?    Is  there  a  gap  here*?  " 

"  Ther  road  ter  Hot  Springs  is  'bout  two  miles 
below  yer.  I  cum  over  it  ten  days  ago  an'  I  reckon 
I  kin  find  my  way  back.  It's  'bout  forty  miles  frum 
thar  ter  Lewisburg,  mostly  hills,  but  a  good  trail. 
I  know  folks  et  Hot  Springs  who  will  take  good 
keer  o'  us,  onct  we  git  thar." 

We  rested  dozing,  but  neither  sound  asleep,  for 
nearly  three  hours.  Whatever  might  be  in  Taylor's 
mind,  the  lonely  night  had  brought  to  me  a  new 


An  Unwelcome  Companion  25 

thought  relative  to  my  companion.  The  fellow  was 
evasive,  and  once  he  had  frankly  lied  in  seeking 
to  explain  his  presence  in  the  valley,  and  the  reason 
for  his  secrecy  of  movement.  By  now  we  were 
decidedly  at  cross-purposes,  each  vigilantly  watch- 
ing the  other  —  Taylor  in  doubt  as  to  what  the 
bundle  contained,  which  I  never  permitted  out  of 
my  grasp,  and  myself  as  deeply  interested  in  gaining 
possession  of  a  packet  of  papers,  a  glimpse  of  which 
I  had  caught  in  an  inside  pocket  of  the  mountaineer's 
coat.  The  belief  that  the  fellow  was  either  a  Yankee 
spy,  or  a  messenger  between  some  Union  emissary  in 
the  Confederate  camp,  and  the  Federal  commander 
in  western  Virginia,  became  clear  and  distinct.  His 
explanation  that  he  had  been  seeking  payment  for 
losses  occasioned  by  Confederate  troops,  was  far 
from  convincing.  Had  this  been  true  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  provided  with  a  pass,  and  there 
would  be  no  necessity  for  riding  these  back  roads 
at  night  to  avoid  being  challenged.  His  mission, 
whatever  it  might  be,  was  secret  and  dangerous.  Of 
this  his  ceaseless  vigilance  was  proof. 

We  rode  on  side  by  side  through  the  rocky  gap 
in  the  chain  of  mountains,  and  along  the  rough  hills 
beyond,  through  gloomy  stretches  of  wood,  and  over 
wind-swept  ridges.  It  was  cold  and  blustery,  the 
clouds  hanging  low,  and  threatening  storm.  We 


26  The  Red  Mist 

were  silent,  suspicious  of  each  other,  never  relaxing 
our  vigilance.  We  encountered  few  travelers,  and 
with  these  scarcely  exchanged  a  word.  Not  a  soldier 
was  seen,  although  there  was  a  Confederate  garrison 
at  Covington  a  few  miles  to  the  south.  The  light 
of  a  dying  day  still  clung  to  the  western  sky  when 
our  wearied  horses  bore  us  into  the  village  of  Hot 
Springs.  It  was  like  a  deserted  hamlet,  few  houses 
appearing  inhabited,  and  the  shop  windows  boarded 
up.  Occasionally  a  face  peered  at  us  cautiously 
through  closed  windows,  and  a  man,  tramping  across 
the  square,  paused  to  stare  curiously  in  our  direction ; 
but  these  were  the  only  signs  of  life  visible.  Over  a 
stone  building  —  possibly  the  post-office  —  flapped 
a  small  Confederate  flag,  ragged  and  disreputable. 
Taylor,  glancing  neither  to  right  or  left,  apparently 
indifferent  to  all  this  desolation,  rode  straight  down 
the  main  street,  and  turned  onto  a  pike  road,  leading 
to  the  left.  A  mile  beyond,  a  frame  house,  painted 
white,  barely  visible  through  the  deepening  dusk, 
stood  in  a  grove  of  oaks.  The  fence  surrounding  it 
had  been  broken  down,  and  the  gate  stood  wide  open. 
The  mountaineer  turned  up  the  broad  driveway,  and 
dismounted  before  the  closed  door.  Almost  at  the 
same  moment  the  portal  opened  slightly  and  a  black 
face  peered  out. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  BODY  ON  THE  FLOOR 

AYLOR  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  steps, 
pausing  in  uncertainty. 
"  Is  that  you,  Sam?  " 
"  Yas,  sah,  but  I  don't  just  make  out 
who  you  gentl'men  am,  sah." 

"  Well,  never  mind  thet  now.  Is  Mister  Har- 
wood,  yere?  " 

I  insensibly  straightened  in  my  saddle.  Har- 
wood  ?  What  Harwood,  I  wondered  —  surely  not 
Major  Harwood  of  Lewisburg,  my  father's  old 
friend !  What  was  it  I  had  heard  about  him  a  few 
months  ago*?  Wasn't  it  a  rumor  that  he  was  on 
General  Ramsay's  staff?  And  the  daughter  — 
Noreen  —  whatever  had  become  of  her?  There 
was  an  instant's  vision  before  me  of  laughing  eyes, 
and  wind-blown  hair,  a  galloping  horse,  and  the 
wave  of  a  challenging  hand.  She  had  thus  swept 
by  me  on  the  road  as  I  took  my  mother  southward. 

"  I  don't  peer  fer  to  recollect  no  such  name,  sah," 
replied  the  negro,  scratching  his  wool  thoughtfully. 
"  I  done  reckon  as  how  you  got  the  wrong  house." 

27 


28  The  Red  Mist 

"  No,  I  reckon  not,"  said  the  other  drily.  "  Git 
'long  in,  an'  tell  him  Jem  Taylor  is  yere." 

The  door  opened  wider. 

"  Suah,  I  know  you  now,  sah.  Just  step  right 
'long  in,  the  both  of  yer.  I'll  look  after  them  horses. 
You'll  fin'  Massa  Harwood  in  the  dinin'  room, 
sah." 

I  followed  the  mountaineer  up  the  steps,  and  into 
the  hall,  utterly  indifferent  as  to  whether  my  com- 
pany was  desired  or  not.  But  Taylor  paid  no  ap- 
parent heed  to  my  presence.  The  interior  was  that 
of  an  old  fashioned  residence,  which,  as  yet,  had 
not  suffered  from  the  ravages  of  war.  Evidences  of 
neglect  were  numerous  enough,  yet  the  furniture  re- 
mained intact,  and  the  walls  firm.  The  hall  was 
carpeted,  and  the  stairs  leading  upward  were  cov- 
ered with  a  rug  of  brightly  woven  rags,  yielding  a 
touch  of  color.  It  was  not  yet  dark,  but  a  lamp 
burned  on  a  near-by  table,  and  a  cheerful  fire  glowed 
at  the  farther  end.  A  door  standing  open  revealed 
what  must  have  been  the  parlor,  a  seemingly  large 
room  in  which  hair-cloth  chairs  and  sofas  were  dimly 
visible.  But  a  brighter  glow  of  light  streamed  from 
a  room  beyond,  and  Taylor,  evidently  acquainted 
with  the  house,  walked  directly  forward,  around  the 
bulge  of  the  stairs,  and  stepped  within  the  open 
door.  Determined  to  miss  nothing,  I  was  so  close 


The  Body  on  the  Floor  29 

behind,  that  my  quick  eyes  caught  what  I  believed 
to  be  a  swift  signal  of  warning  to  the  man  within. 
This,  however,  was  an  impression  born  from  my 
own  suspicion,  rather  than  any  real  movement,  for 
Taylor  took  but  a  single  step  across  the  threshold, 
and  stopped,  leaning  on  his  gun.  Behind  him, 
standing  in  the  open  door,  I  had  full  glimpse  of  the 
interior. 

There  were  two  lights  —  one  hanging  above  the 
table,  the  other  on  a  sideboard  to  the  right.  The 
room  itself  was  panelled  in  dark  wood,  the  two 
windows  heavily  draped  with  hanging  curtains,  a 
few  pictures  decorating  the  walls.  There  was  a  fire- 
place, with  a  grate  fire  smouldering,  and  over  it  a 
pair  of  crossed  swords  and  an  old  powder  horn.  The 
single  occupant  sat  upright,  before  him  the  remnants 
of  a  light  repast,  his  hand  toying  with  a  spoon,  and 
his  eyes  shifting  from  Taylor's  face  to  that  of  mine. 
He  was  heavily  built  and  broad  of  shoulder,  the  face, 
illumined  by  the  hanging  lamp,  strong  and  master- 
ful, the  jaw  prominent,  the  forehead  broad,  the 
nose  roman.  It  would  have  been  a  hard  face,  but 
for  a  gleam  of  good  humor  in  the  eyes,  and  the 
softening  effect  of  gray  hair,  and  a  gray  moustache. 
The  man  had  aged  greatly,  yet  I  recognized  him  in- 
stantly, my  heart  throbbing  with  the  possibility  that 
I  also  might  be  remembered.  Yet  surely  there  was 


30  The  Red  Mist 


no  gleam  of  recollection  in  the  eyes  that  surveyed 
me  —  and  why  should  there  be*?  I  had  been  an 
uninteresting  lad  of  fifteen  when  we  last  met.  This 
knowledge  gave  me  courage  to  meet  that  searching 
glance,  and  to  lift  my  hand  in  the  salute  due  to  an 
officer  of  rank. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Harwood  in  deep  voice,  "  a  soldier 
from  the  valley1?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  respectfully,  "  the  Sixty-fifth  Vir- 
ginia." 

"  Oh,  yes;  there  was  a  company  of  mountainmen 
from  Covington  way  in  that  command.  Daniels 
your  captain*?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Deserter?  " 

"  No,  sir;  on  thirty  days'  furlough." 

"  Oh,  indeed!  so  '  old  Jack '  thinks  he  has  plenty 
of  time,  and  can  let  part  of  his  army  go  home,  does 
he?  Well,  that's  his  business,  of  course.  How 
does  it  happen  you  wear  artillery  uniform*?  " 

Expecting  the  question  I  answered  unhesitatingly. 

"  They'd  lost  so  many  gunners,  some  of  us  were 
detailed  to  help.  Recruits  are  coming  in  now." 

"  What  was  your  battery?  " 

"  Staunton  Horse  Artillery,  sir." 

"Stationed?" 

"  At  Front  Royal  —  that  was  our  winter  camp." 


The  Body  on  the  Floor  31 

He  nodded,  tapping  his  spoon  against  the  table, 
favorably  impressed  by  my  prompt  replies.  His 
keen  eyes  sought  the  face  of  the  silent  mountaineer. 

"  You  know  this  man,  Taylor?  " 

"  Wai,  I  can't  exactly  say  thet  I  dew,  Major," 
he  said  drawlingly,  shifting  his  feet  uneasily.  "  He 
wus  sorter  wished  on  me,  an'  as  he  wus  bound  this 
way,  I  reckoned  as  how  it  wus  best  fer  us  to  ride 
'long  together.  He  says  he's  a  Cowan,  frum  over  on 
Buffalo  Crick." 

"  A  Cowan !  —  you  mean  —  " 

"  No,  he  don't  claim  ter  be  none  o'  ol'  Ned's 
brood  —  his  mar's  a  widder  woman.  They  ain't 
no  kin,  I  reckon." 

Whatever  thoughts  might  have  been  in  Major 
Harwood's  mind  were  concealed  by  an  impassive 
face,  as  he  sat  there  for  a  moment  in  silence,  gazing 
at  the  two  of  us. 

"  No  doubt  you  did  what  you  believed  to  be  best, 
Taylor,"  he  said  at  last  quietly.  "  We  will  talk  it 
over  later.  You  are  both  hungry  enough  to  eat,  I 
suppose?  Draw  up  some  chairs,  and  Sam  will  rind 
something.  No  objection  to  remaining  here  over 
night,  Cowan?  " 

"  I'd  be  glad  to  get  on,  sir,  but,  my  horse  is  about 
used  up.  The  roads  have  been  hard,  and  we  have 
traveled  rapidly." 


32  The  Red  Mist 


"  Well,  there  is  plenty  of  room,  and  you  are 
welcome.  This  house,"  he  explained,  "belongs  to 
a  friend  of  mine,  who  had  to  leave  the  country  — 
too  Yankee  for  his  neighbors.  I  find  it  rather  con- 
venient at  times.  Ah,  Sam,  that  rasher  of  bacon 
looks  prime  —  I'll  try  some  myself." 

The  three  of  us  talked  upon  many  subjects,  al- 
though Taylor  said  little,  except  when  directly 
addressed,  and  I  noted  that  few  references  were  made 
to  the  war.  Occasionally  Harwood  would  carelessly, 
interject  a  question  relating  to  Jackson,  but  I  re- 
mained ever  on  guard,  exhibiting  a  lack  of  informa- 
tion such  as  was  natural  to  a  soldier  in  the  ranks, 
and  thus  more  and  more  disarmed  suspicion.  I 
apparently  knew  little  beyond  the  disposition  of  my 
own  battery,  and  the  fact  that  the  main  camp  was 
still  at  Front  Royal,  engaged  in  constant  drills.  In 
return  I  ventured  to  question  my  host  on  the  condi- 
tion of  things  in  Green  Briar,  but  made  no  attempt  to 
learn  the  number  of  troops  in  the  region.  That 
Harwood  was  in  the  Federal  service  I  had  no  doubt, 
although  he  was  not  in  uniform,  and,  if  this  was  true, 
then  it  must  be  also  a  fact  that  Taylor  was  a 
Union  spy.  The  meeting  here  had  not  been  by 
chance,  although  a  mystery  involved  the  hidden 
reason  why  I,  a  known  Confederate  soldier,  had  been 
encouraged  to  accompany  the  mountaineer  to  this 


The  Body  on  the  Floor  33 

secret  rendezvous.  What  could  be  Taylor's  object 
in  bringing  me  there  to  meet  Harwood  ?  Various 
theories  flitted  through  my  mind,  as  I  sat  there,  en- 
deavoring to  carry  on  my  share  of  conversation,  but 
none  wholly  satisfied  my  judgment.  At  last  the 
meal  ended,  and  the  Major  pushed  back  his  chair, 
and  motioned  for  Sam  to  clear  the  table. 

"  You  two  men  are  tired  out,"  he  said  genially, 
"  and  you  had  better  turn  in,  and  get  a  good  night's 
sleep.  We'll  all  of  us  ride  on  into  Green  Briar  to- 
morrow. I'll  talk  with  you  a  minute  Taylor  in 
the  parlor  before  you  go;  but  Cowan  does  not  need 
to  wait.  Help  yourselves  to  the  tobacco.  Oh, 
Sam!" 

"  Yes,  Major." 

"  Show  this  soldier  up  to  the  back  bedroom,  and 
see  he  has  everything  he  needs." 

"  Yes,  sah." 

It  was  clearly  apparent  that  Harwood  desired 
a  private  word  with  Taylor,  and  so,  after  deliber- 
ately filling  my  pipe,  I  rose  to  my  feet,  stretching 
sleepily.  The  black  returned  with  a  small  lamp  in 
his  hand,  and  led  the  way  up  the  broad  stairs.  My 
last  backward  glance  through  the  open  door  revealed 
the  two  sitting  just  as  I  had  left  them,  except  that 
Harwood  was  leaning  slightly  forward  across  the 
table,  and  speaking  earnestly.  A  moment  later  I 


34  The  Red  Mist 


was  left  alone  in  a  small  room  at  the  end  of  the 
upper  hall.  As  the  negro  closed  the  door,  clicking 
the  latch  into  place,  I  glanced  about  me  curiously. 
It  was  a  narrow  room,  containing  only  a  chair,  a 
washstand  and  a  single  bed,  a  strip  of  rag  carpet  on 
the  floor,  and  the  one  window  so  heavily  curtained 
as  probably  to  render  the  light  invisible  from  with- 
out. I  placed  my  bundle  on  the  chair,  and  examined 
the  door;  it  was  securely  latched,  but  there  was  no 
lock.  Then  I  was  not  being  held  a  prisoner.  Still 
smoking  I  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  my  mind 
busy  with  the  situation. 

It  occurred  to  me  now  with  new  clearness  of  vision 
that  Taylor  had  some  special  object  in  his  friendli- 
ness. If  he  was  a  Union  spy  his  natural  preference 
would  have  been  to  travel  alone.  Instead,  the  fellow 
had  almost  insisted  on  my  companionship;  indeed, 
the  tactiturn,  silent  mountaineer  had  even  en- 
deavored to  simulate  geniality  to  that  end.  But 
for  what  possible  reason"?  Suspicion  no  doubt  of  my 
real  purpose  —  a  vague  questioning  of  my  identity, 
the  truth,  of  the  story  I  had  told.  One  thing  was 
certain  —  I  must  break  away  from  these  men  at  once, 
or  face  exposure.  Good  fortune  had  been  mine  so 
far,  for  Major  Harwood  had  failed  to  recognize  me, 
but  if  Taylor  believed  evil  of  me  his  tale  would 
certainly  influence  that  officer,  and  arouse  his  sus- 


The  Body  cm  the  Floor  35 

picion  likewise.  If  I  could  get  safely  away  from  the 
house  that  night,  my  escape  unknown  until  morn- 
ing, I  might  never  encounter  either  of  the  two  again. 
'Twas  likely  Harwood  had  come  from  Charleston, 
where  Ramsay  was  in  command,  and  he  would 
return  there  to  make  his  report,  while  the  mountain- 
eer might  be  dispatched  in  any  direction,  but  scarcely 
into  the  mountain  districts  of  Green  Briar,  where 
my  duty  would  take  me.  Nor  would  they  waste 
much  time  in  following  me  —  for,  at  best,  their 
suspicions  must  be  vague,  uncertain.  Nothing  had 
occurred  to  render  them  definite.  I  had  said  noth- 
ing, done  nothing,  which  was  inconsistent  with  the 
character  I  had  assumed.  They  would  most  nat- 
urally suppose  I  was  eager  to  get  on,  and  preferred 
to  complete  the  journey  alone.  No  doubt  they 
would  dismiss  the  whole  matter  with  a  laugh  when 
they  discovered  me  gone. 

I  extinguished  the  light,  and  looked  out  of  the 
window.  It  was  quite  a  drop,  though  not  neces- 
sarily a  dangerous  one,  to  the  ground.  Those  dim 
outlines  of  buildings  were  probably  the  stables, 
where  I  would  find  my  horse.  With  no  guards  the 
trick  of  getting  away  unobserved  would  be  easy 
enough,  and  I  knew  the  road  sufficiently  well  to 
follow  it  safely.  But  I  desired  to  learn  first  what 
these  two  men  were  actually  up  to.  Such  informa- 


36  The  Red  Mist 


tion  might  prove  more  important  than  my  investiga- 
tions in  Green  Briar.  I  stole  across  to  the  door  and 
opened  it  noiselessly,  surprised  to  discover  it  had 
been  left  unguarded.  Either  the  men  below  were 
careless,  were  innocent  of  wrong  intent,  or  else  were 
completely  deceived  as  to  my  character  and  purpose. 
There  was  no  one  visible  in  the  upper  hall,  and  I 
leaned  over  the  stair  rail  gazing  down,  and  listening. 
A  light  still  burned  within  the  dining  room,  but 
there  was  no  sound  of  voices,  or  of  movement.  I 
waited  there  motionless  for  several  minutes,  unable 
to  assure  myself  that  the  conference  of  the  two  men 
had  been  terminated  so  quickly.  Surely  they  must 
be  there  yet  —  where  the  lamp  burned  no  doubt, 
and  would  resume  conversation  shortly. 

The  silence  continued,  and  I  began  to  cautiously 
steal  passage  down  the  carpeted  stairs,  crouching 
well  back  against  the  side-wall.  Little  by  little  I 
was  able  to  peer  in  through  the  open  door  —  the 
chairs  were  vacant;  there  was  no  one  there.  The 
gleam  of  the  lamp  revealed  a  deserted  room,  the 
table  still  littered  with  dishes.  What  had  become 
then  of  Harwood  and  Taylor?  Could  they  have 
gone  to  bed  already"?  Surely  I  must  have  heard 
them  if  they  had  climbed  the  stairs.  If  not,  had 
they  ventured  forth  together  on  some  secret  mission 
into  the  night1?  or  were  they  sitting  beyond  in  the 


The  Body  on  the  Floor 


darkened  parlor?  This  last  supposition  was  possi- 
ble, and  I  must  be  fully  assured  that  neither 
remained  in  the  house,  before  I  sought  to  trail  them 
without.  I  crept  to  the  half-closed  door,  and 
endeavored  to  gain  glimpse  within.  The  room  was 
black  and  silent,  although  I  could  perceive  dimly 
the  outlines  of  furniture.  Nothing  appeared 
strange,  except  that  the  chair  nearest  the  door  had 
been  overturned.  Surely  every  article  of  furniture 
stood  straight  and  stiff  enough,  when  I  glanced  that 
way  before,  on  my  first  entrance.  I  recalled  clearly 
how  rigid  that  parlor  looked,  every  piece  of  furniture 
placed  as  if  by  mathematical  lines. 

Something  —  some  vague  sense  of  mystery,  of 
danger,  gripped  me.  I  felt  a  strange  choking  in  the 
throat,  and  reached  for  the  revolver  at  my  belt.  It 
was  not  there;  the  leather  holder  was  empty.  My 
first  sensation  was  fear,  a  belief  I  was  the  victim  of 
treachery.  Then  it  occurred  to  my  mind  that  the 
weapon  might  have  fallen  from  the  open  holster 
as  I  rested  on  the  bed  —  a  mere  accident.  At  least 
I  would  learn  the  truth  of  that  dark  room.  I  stepped 
within,  circled  the  overturned  chair,  and  a  groping 
foot  encountered  something  lying  on  the  floor.  I 
bent  down,  and  touched  it  with  my  hand;  it  was 
the  body  of  a  man.  The  whole  truth  came  to  me 
in  a  flash  —  there  had  been  a  quarrel,  a  murder, 


38  The  Red  Mist 


unpremeditated  probably,  and  the  assassin  had 
escaped.  But  which  of  the  two  was  the  victim'?  An 
instant  I  stood  there,  staring  about  in  the  dark, 
bewildered  and  uncertain.  Then  I  grasped  the  lamp 
from  the  table  in  the  other  room,  and  returned  hold- 
ing the  light  in  my  hands.  The  form  of  Major 
Harwood  lay  extended  on  the  floor,  lifeless,  his 
skull  crushed  by  an  ugly  blow.  Beside  him  lay  a 
revolver,  its  butt  blood-stained.  Beyond  doubt  this 
was  the  weapon  which  had  killed.  I  picked  it  up 
wonderingly  —  it  was  my  own. 


CHAPTER  IV 

INTO  THE  ENEMIES'  HANDS 

HE  truth  in  all  its  ugliness  came  to  me 
then  in  sudden  revealment.  This  was 
no  accident,  no  result  of  unpremeditated 
quarrel  between  the  two  men.  Har- 
wood's  death  had  been  deliberately  planned,  and 
the  effort  made  to  cast  suspicion  on  me,  while  the 
murderer  escaped.  This  was  why  Taylor  had  in- 
sisted on  our  traveling  together  so  long.  It  accounted 
for  many  things  which  had  puzzled  me  in  the  con- 
duct of  my  companion.  And  the  plot  had  been 
successful  so  far  as  Taylor  knew.  The  Major  lay 
dead,  with  my  blood-stained  revolver  —  evidently 
the  weapon  which  had  struck  the  blow  —  lying 
beside  him.  Dawn  would  reveal  the  deed,  and  I 
would  be  discovered  alone  in  the  house.  Only  my 
wakefulness,  my  desire  to  investigate,  had  inter- 
fered with  the  complete  success  of  this  hideous  plan. 

But  why  had  Harwood  been  murdered*?  What 
purpose  did  his  violent  death  serve?  Who  was 
Taylor*?  And  what  had  brought  him  all  that  dis- 
tance to  do  a  deed  like  this?  The  two  men  were 
apparently  friendly ;  there  was  a  secret  understanding 

39 


40  The  Red  Mist 


between  them;  they  met  in  this  lonely  place  by 
appointment.  There  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  that, 
for  I  had  caught  the  swift  sign  of  warning  passing 
between  them  caused  by  my  presence;  and  had  felt 
the  desire  for  my  early  retirement,  so  they  might 
converse  freely.  Could  it  be  possible  some  misunder- 
standing had  arisen  which  had  led  to  this  tragedy*? 
One  fact  alone  combatted  this  thought  —  the  stolen 
revolver;  the  evident  purpose  of  the  murderer  to 
cast  the  burden  of  the  crime  on  an  innocent  man. 
That  was  no  impulse  of  the  moment,  no  sudden 
inspiration.  Taylor  had  prepared  himself  for  this 
emergency,  had  deliberately  taken  the  weapon  for 
that  very  purpose.  Where  had  the  fellow  gone1? 
In  which  direction  had  he  fled?  A  knowledge 
of  this  might  help  to  clear  up  the  mystery,  might 
reveal,  at  least,  whether  he  sought  refuge  with  the 
Union  or  Confederate  forces.  And  what  had  become 
of  the  negro? 

All  these  questions  flashed  through  my  mind  as 
I  stood  there,  lamp  in  one  hand  and  revolver  in  the 
other,  staring  down  at  the  dead  face.  The  first  feel- 
ing of  dazed  bewilderment  changed  into  anger,  and 
a  desire  to  revenge  the  death  of  this  man  who  had 
once  been  my  father's  friend.  I  cared  nothing  at 
that  moment  for  the  uniform  the  Major  had  worn, 
that  we  were  opposed  to  each  other  in  arms;  I 


Into  the  Enemies'  Hands  41 

recalled  merely  the  genial  nature  of  the  man,  his 
acts  of  former  friendship,  and  his  motherless 
daughter.  Out  of  the  mist  floated  the  face  of  the 
girl,  the  girl  who  had  waved  to  me  in  the  road.  The 
vision  brought  back  to  me  coolness,  and  determina- 
tion. I  wiped  off  the  blood  stains  from  the  revolver 
on  the  carpet,  and  slipped  the  weapon  back  into  my 
belt,  assuring  myself  first  that  it  remained  loaded/ 
Then  I  felt  through  the  pockets  of  the  dead  man  — 
if  robbery  had  been  the  object  of  this  crime,  that 
robbery  did  not  involve  the  taking  of  money.  I 
found  a  knife,  keys,  and  a  roll  of  bills  untouched, 
but  not  a  scrap  of  paper.  On  the  floor,  partially 
concealed  by  one  arm,  was  a  large  envelope,  unad- 
dressed,  roughly  torn  open.  It  was  some  document, 
then,  that  the  murderer  sought.  This  once  attained, 
his  purpose  had  been  accomplished,  and  he  had  fled 
with  it  in  his  possession.  What  paper  could  justify 
such  a  crime4?  The  negro  —  perhaps  the  negro 
knew. 

Intent  now  on  my  one  purpose  of  discovery,  my 
mind  active  and  alert,  I  returned  the  lamp  to  the 
dining  room  table,  and  revolver  still  in  hand  began 
a  rapid  search  of  the  house.  The  front  door  was 
fastened  and  barred,  proving  Taylor  had  not  left 
that  way.  There  was  but  one  other  room  on  that 
floor,  a  kitchen  in  considerable  disorder,  as  though 


42  The  Red  Mist 


the  servant  had  made  no  effort  to  complete  his 
work;  but  its  outer  door  stood  unlatched.  The  porch 
without  was  dark  and  deserted,  yet  through  here,  un- 
doubtedly, the  murderer  had  fled,  seeking  the  stable 
and  a  horse.  But  what  had  become  of  the  negro*? 
Was  he  victim,  or  accomplice*? 

Satisfied  now  that  Taylor  had  left  the  house,  and 
escaped  from  the  scene  of  his  crime,  I  hastily 
searched  the  upper  rooms,  but  found  no  trace  of  any 
other  occupant.  The  servant  was  not  there,  nor 
had  any  bed,  except  my  own,  been  occupied,  or  dis- 
arranged. Then  Sam  must  have  gone  with  the 
mountaineer  in  his  hasty  flight  —  must  be  equally 
guilty.  This  was  the  only  conclusion  possible,  and 
the  knowledge  that  I  was  left  there  alone  rendered 
my  own  position  more  precarious.  Harwood  had 
mentioned  no  escort,  yet  surely  he  had  never  ven- 
tured into  this  doubtful  region  without  having  sol- 
diers within  call.  No  doubt  they  were  quartered  in 
the  village,  who,  if  he  failed  to  appear  when  ex- 
pected, would  search  for  him.  Before  they  came, 
and  made  discovery  of  the  dead  body,  I  must  be 
safely  beyond  reach.  If  found  there,  no  defense, 
no  asseveration  of  innocence,  would  ever  save  me 
from  condemnation.  Their  vengeance  would  be 
swift  and  merciless.  Thinking  now  only  of  my  own 
escape  unobserved,  I  crept  back  down  the  stairs,  my 


Into  the  Enemies'  Hands  43 

nerves  shaken,  extinguished  the  lights,  without  even 
venturing  to  glance  again  into  the  dark  parlor,  and 
felt  my  way  into  the  night  without.  It  was  suffi- 
ciently dark  to  compel  me  to  feel  passage  cautiously 
over  the  uneven  ground,  the  path,  circling  an  old 
garden,  leading  toward  the  stable.  Twice  I  stum- 
bled over  the  remnants  of  a  broken  fence,  and  once 
I  stepped  blindly  into  a  shallow  trench,  and  dropped 
my  bundle.  The  recovery  of  it  brought  me  a  new 
thought  —  this  would  be  Federal  territory ;  or  if 
not,  already,  my  night's  ride  would  bring  me  well 
within  their  lines  before  dawn.  My  pass,  my  Con- 
federate uniform,  would  only  serve  to  increase  the 
peril  of  possible  capture.  There  might  be  those  back 
yonder  in  Hot  Springs  who  would  recall  our  passage 
through  the  village,  who  would  describe  the  artillery 
sergeant  to  Harwood's  questioning  cavalrymen.  A 
change  of  clothing  would  throw  them  off  the  trail. 
I  slipped  instantly  out  of  the  soiled  suit  of  gray, 
and  donned  the  immaculate  blue,  buckling  the  belt 
about  my  waist,  and  securely  hooking  the  saber. 
Then  I  scooped  out  a  hole  in  the  soft  dirt,  and  buried 
the  old  uniform,  tearing  my  pass  into  shreds,  scatter- 
ing the  fragments  broadcast.  It  was  so  lonely  and 
still  all  about,  not  even  a  breath  of  wind  stirring 
the  leaves,  that  I  felt  a  return  of  confidence,  a 
renewed  courage.  The  house  behind  me,  and  the 


44  The  Red  Mist 


stable  before,  were  mere  outlines,  scarcely  discern- 
ible through  the  gloom.  Yet  I  had  only  to  follow 
the  path,  guided  by  the  remains  of  a  fence,  to  attain 
the  latter.  It  was  not  a  large  building,  and  the  path 
led  directly  to  the  single  door,  which  stood  wide 
open.  I  could  hear  the  uneasy  movements  of  a  horse 
within,  which  was  a  great  relief,  as  I  had  been  fearful 
lest  the  fugitives  had  left  me  without  a  mount. 
Obliged  to  feel  blindly  in  the  dark,  and  not  knowing 
what  the  black  shadows  might  conceal,  I  wus  some 
time  in  leading  the  animal  forth,  properly  saddled. 
But  there  was  no  alarm,  no  occurrence  to  unnerve 
me,  and  while  there  were  three  horses  in  the  stable, 
I  found  it  easy  to  choose  my  own.  Once  safely  in 
the  saddle,  I  circled  the  gloom  of  the  house  silently, 
and  followed  the  roadway  to  the  gate. 

Not  a  light  gleamed  in  any  direction,  and  I  could 
recall  no  other  house  near  by.  While  it  remained 
in  view  I  could  not  remove  my  eyes  from  the  man- 
sion I  had  just  left,  or  forget  the  dead  body  lying 
there  in  the  dark.  War  had  already  taught  me  to 
look  upon  death  by  violence  with  a  certain  callous- 
ness. I  had  walked  over  battle  fields,  strewn  with 
corpses,  almost  unmoved.  But  this  was  murder,  foul 
and  treacherous  —  the  victim  a  man  whom  as  a  boy 
I  had  been  taught  to  respect  and  revere.  The  shy- 
ing of  my  horse  at  the  gate  alone  caused  me  to  note 


Into  the  Enemies'  Hands  45 

the  black  something  lying  against  the  post.  At  first 
I  deemed  it  a  mere  shadow,  but  the  animal  would 
not  respond  even  to  the  spur,  and  I  dismounted  bet- 
ter to  ascertain  the  .cause  of  his  fright.  The  negro 
lay  there,  dead  as  his  master,  a  knife  thrust  in  his 
heart.  Then  it  was  Taylor  alone  who  had  done  the 
foul  deed  —  and  he  had  left  no  witnesses  behind. 
Why  had  the  fiend  spared  me  in  his  bloody  work4? 
There  could  be  but  one  reason  —  a  thought  in  his 
cunning  brain  that  I  would  be  the  one  suspected  — 
I,  a  helpless,  unknown  stranger,  wearing  the  Confed- 
erate uniform,  condemned  by  my  own  revolver  lying 
beside  the  corpse  —  a  hope  that  he  would  thus  escape 
unfollowed.  If  he  took  such  pains  to  cast  suspicion 
on  me,  the  man  must  have  been  aware  that  Major 
Harwood  was  not  alone;  that  his  death  would  be 
quickly  discovered,  and  an  effort  made  to  avenge  it. 
There  was  nothing  I  could  do,  but  flee  swiftly 
through  the  night.  My  own  position  was  now  far 
too  desperate  to  permit  of  my  giving  any  alarm,  or 
seeking  to  trace  the  murderer.  To  fall  into  Union 
hands  would  be  my  death-warrant,  irrespective  of 
Harwood's  fate,  and  my  duty  lay  in  carrying  out  the 
orders  of  "  Old  Jack."  To  allow  myself  to  be  cap- 
tured would  spoil  everything.  Satisfied  that  the 
negro  was  indeed  dead,  I  led  my  trembling  horse 
past  the  motionless  body,  seeking  as  I  did  so  to  learn, 


46  The  Red  Mist 


if  possible,  in  which  direction  the  murderer  had 
disappeared.  But  in  this  I  failed,  the  night  being  so 
dark  there  was  no  tracing  of  horse's  hoofs  on  the 
hard  roadway.  I  swung  back  into  the  saddle  and 
turned  to  the  left.  I  had  no  knowledge  as  to  where 
this  road  —  apparently  not  a  main  highway  —  led, 
but  I  was  acquainted  with  the  pike  running  west 
from  Hot  Springs.  To  venture  back  through  that 
hamlet  might,  indeed,  expose  me  to  discovery,  yet 
once  beyond  the  village  I  should  be  traversing  fa- 
miliar ground,  and  could  proceed  with  greater  confi- 
dence. Besides,  the  hour  was  late;  there  was  small 
chance  that  I  would  encounter  any  stray  traveler,  or 
find  any  pickets  posted. 

I  rode  toward  the  town  as  rapidly  as  I  dared, 
watchful  of  every  deepening  shadow,  until  I 
came  to  the  first  straggling  houses.  These  were  dark 
and  silent,  and  not  so  much  as  a  dog  barked  as  I 
walked  my  horse  cautiously  forward  toward  the 
main  street.  I  saw  but  one  dim  light  streaming  out 
through  an  uncurtained  window  of  what  looked  like 
a  law  office,  and  passed  close  enough  to  learn  that  a 
group  of  men  within  were  playing  cards.  I  could 
glimpse  their  shadows,  but  was  unable  to  determine 
if  any  among  them  were  in  uniform.  Yet  few  men 
were  at  home  in  those  days,  and  it  was  highly  prob- 
able these  belonged  to  the  Major's  escort.  I  passed 


Into  the  Enemies3  Hands  47 

the  place  unobserved,  and  rode  on  into  the  night, 
feeling  I  had  escaped  from  immediate  danger.  At 
what  I  took  to  be  the  tavern  corner  I  discovered  the 
road  leading  to  the  left,  and  turned  in  that  direction, 
assured  that  it  would  lead  directly  into  the  heart  of 
Green  Briar.  At  a  little  stream  unbridged,  I  wa- 
tered my  horse,  which  drank  greedily,  and  then 
climbed  the  opposite  bank.  The  road  ran  through 
thick  woods,  the  darkness  intense,  and  as  the  way 
was  silent  and  seemed  deserted  I  gave  the  animal 
the  spur. 

I  must  have  loped  along  thus  for  ten  minutes,  all 
thought  of  pursuit  already  dismissed,  and  my  mind 
occupied  with  plans  for  the  future,  when  the  woods 
suddenly  ended  in  a  bare  ridge,  the  ribbon  of  road 
revealing  itself  under  the  soft  glow  of  the  stars.  I 
know  not  why  I  heard  no  sound  of  warning,  but  at 
the  instant,  a  half  dozen  shadows  loomed  up  block- 
ing the  path.  I  barely  had  time  to  rein  in  my  horse 
before  we  were  intermingled,  the  surprise  evidently 
mutual,  although  one  of  the  newcomers  was  swift 
enough  to  seize  my  animal's  bit,  and  hold  him 
plunging  in  fright.  I  clung  to  the  stirrups,  aware  of 
the  flash  of  a  weapon  in  my  face,  and  an  oath  uttered 
in  a  gruff  voice. 

"In  God's  name!  where  did  you  come  from'? 
Here,  Snow,  see  what  this  fellow  looks  like." 


48  The  Red  Mist 


The  speaker  had  a  wide  brimmed  hat,  drawn  low 
over  his  face,  and  a  cape  concealed  his  uniform. 
But  Snow  wore  the  cap  of  the  Federal  cavalry,  and 
I  knew  I  had  fallen  into  Yankee  hands. 


CHAPTER  V 

I  JOIN  THE  FEDERAL  CAVALRY 

SHOOK  off  the  grip  of  the  latter's  hand 
from  my  arm. 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  telling  you 
my   name    and   rank,"    I    said   coldly. 
"  but  lower  that  gun  first;  I  am  in  uniform." 

The  rather  contemptuous  tone  of  voice  employed 
had  greater  effect  on  the  fellow  than  the  evidence  of 
his  eyes.  His  arm  fell  to  his  side,  although  he  still 
retained  a  grasp  on  my  bridle. 

"  So  I  see,"  but  with  no  cordiality  in  the  words. 
"  But  that  is  hardly  convincing.  Federal  officers 
are  rare  birds  who  ride  these  roads  alone.  Who  are 
you,  sir,  and  why  are  you  here?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  may  be  privileged  to  ask  first  by  what 
authority  you  halt  and  question  me*?  " 

He  laughed,  and  waved  the  weapon  he  still  held 
toward  the  others  of  his  party. 

"  Our  force  alone  is  sufficient  authority  I  should 
suppose.  However  I  will  set  your  mind  at  rest  —  I 
am  Captain  Fox,  in  command  of  a  detachment  of 
the  Twelfth  Pennsylvania  Cavalry." 

49 


50  The  Red  Mist 


"  Oh,  yes,"  I  responded  more  pleasantly,  "  of 
General  Ramsay's  command.  You  had  left  Charles- 
ton before  my  arrival.  You  know  Major  Harwood, 
no  doubt?  " 

"  We  are  of  his  escort,"  both  suspicion  and  com- 
mand lost  before  my  cool  assurance.  "  You  are  in 
the  service,  sir?  " 

"Third  United  States  Cavalry;  on  recruiting  de- 
tail. I  was  to  meet  Harwood  at  Hot  Springs,  but 
was  told  he  had  gone  to  Green  Briar." 

"By  whom?" 

"A  scout  I  met  by  chance;  he  gave  the  name 
Taylor." 

The  Captain  swore  grimly,  glancing  across  my 
horse  into  the  face  of  the  trooper  opposite. 

"  By  all  the  gods,  that's  rather  odd !  "  he  exclaimed 
in  apparent  surprise.  "  That  was  the  name  of  the 
man  the  Major  expected  to  meet,  wasn't  it,  Snow?  " 

"  It  was,  sir." 

"  And  he  told  you  the  Major  had  gone  west  to 
Green  Briar?  That  isn't  true,  for  this  is  the  Green 
Briar  road,  and  we  have  met  no  one.  Were  there 
no  soldiers  in  Hot  Springs?  " 

"  I  saw  a  group  playing  cards,  but  there  were  no 
sentries.  The  men  had  no  knowledge  of  where 
Major  Harwood  had  gone;  only  that  he  had  left  the 
village." 


/  Join  the  Federal  Cavalry  51 

'Well,  this  stumps  me!  "  his  voice  grown  sud- 
denly harder.  "  It  doesn't  sound  straight,  for  we 
left  him  safely  in  Hot  Springs  an  hour  before  sun- 
down, and  he  had  no  purpose  at  that  time  except  to 
wait  there  for  Taylor.  Do  you  carry  any  papers'?  " 

I  drew  the  official  envelope  from  my  pocket,  and 
held  it  out  to  him  calmly.  He  opened  the  flap. 

"  A  little  light,  Snow  —  yes,  a  match  will  do." 

The  flame  lit  up  their  faces  —  the  officer  a  thin- 
faced  man  with  moustache  and  imperial,  his  teeth 
oddly  prominent;  the  trooper  older  in  years,  but 
smooth-shaven,  with  deep-set  eyes  and  square  chin. 
Their  uniforms  were  dusty  and  well  worn.  The 
others,  clustered  behind,  remained  mere  shadows. 
The  Captain  took  in  the  nature  of  the  document  at  a 
glance,  and  I  marked  a  change  in  his  expression 
before  the  match  went  out. 

"  Oh,  I  see  —  you  are  Lieutenant  Raymond.  Got 
to  us  earlier  than  you  expected.  Find  many  recruits 
north?" 

"  No,"  I  answered,  taken  completely  by  surprise, 
but  managing  to  control  my  voice.  "  That  was  why 
I  thought  I  might  accomplish  more  in  this  section. 
Those  counties  have  been  combed  over."  I  hesitated 
an  instant,  and  yet  it  was  best  fpr  me  to  learn  what 
I  could.  "  I  was  not  aware,  Captain,  that  my  pro- 
jected visit  had  been  announced." 


52  The  Red  Mist 


He  laughed,  and  the  second  match  went  out,  leav- 
ing us  again  in  darkness. 

"Nor  was  it,  officially;  merely  a  friendly  letter 
from  an  officer  on  Heitzelman's  staff  to  our  Major, 
asking  for  you  a  friendly  reception.  Camp  gossip 
brought  the  news  to  me.  You  knew  Harwood1?  " 

"  No;  only  General  Ramsay  advised  me  to  confer 
with  him,  because  of  his  intimate  knowledge  of  this 
section.  He  belonged,  I  believe,  in  Green  Briar?  " 

"Yes,  we  were  at  his  place  yesterday;  south  of 
Lewisburg.  What  sort  of  a  looking  man  was  this 
fellow  Taylor*?  " 

I  described  him  minutely,  hoping  for  some  recog- 
nition, but  the  Captain  did  not  appear  to  recall  any 
such  character. 

"  We  have  only  been  in  this  region  a  few  months," 
he  said,  in  explanation,  "  and  I  don't  remember  any 
such  chap.  He  is  none  of  Ramsay's  scouts.  What 
do  you  say,  Snow*?  " 

"  Only  man  like  that  I've  heard  of,  sir,  is  old  Ned 
Cowan,  and  it  ain't  likely  he's  left  the  mountins  to 
go  into  '  Old  Jack's  '  camp." 

Fox  laughed,  as  though  the  idea  amused  him. 

"  Hardly.  Cowan  is  too  well  known  to  take  the 
risk.  Either  side  would  hang  the  hound  on  sight. 
Well,  let's  ride  along  into  Hot  Springs.  You'll 
come  with  us,  Lieutenant"?  " 


I  Join  the  Federal  Cavalry  53 

There  was  no  excuse  left  me,  no  reason  that  I 
could  urge  for  riding  on  alone  westward.  Indeed, 
before  I  could  clearly  collect  my  thoughts,  I  was  in 
the  midst  of  the  horsemen,  slowly  moving  east  once 
more  over  the  dark  road.  Fox  held  position  beside 
me,  talking  freely  about  his  varied  experiences  since 
enlistment,  and  I  only  found  it  necessary  to  encour- 
age him  by  interjecting  an  occasional  brief  reply. 
He  was  evidently  fond  of  his  own  voice,  and  glad  to 
find  a  new  auditor.  His  reminiscences  had  little 
reference  to  matters  of  interest  to  me,  and  my  own 
thoughts  were  of  the  present  situation,  although  I 
listened  to  his  droning,  and  was  ready  to  respond. 
I  must  find  some  means  for  parting  company  with 
these  friendly  cavalrymen,  before  they  discovered 
the  fate  cf  Harwood.  That  was  my  first  inclina- 
tion; then  it  occurred  to  me  that  possibly  I  could 
attain  my  end  more  easily  by  making  use  of  their 
protection.  Why  not*?  Neither  Fox,  nor  any  of  his 
men,  had  slightest  reason  to  question  my  identity. 
They  would  never  connect  me  with  the  death  of  the 
Major,  and,  beyond  doubt,  they  would  immediately 
follow  any  trail  the  murderer  left.  If  he  went  east 
or  south  the  pursuers  would  never  dare  venture  more 
than  a  few  miles,  for  there  were  Confederates  sta- 
tioned in  some  force  at  Covington,  but  if  Taylor,  by 
chance,  had  turned  west  in  his  flight,  the  pursuit 


54  The  Red  Mist 


would  take  me  into  the  very  section  to  which  I  had 
been  assigned.  And  if  it  proved  this  man  Taylor 
was  in  reality  old  Ned  Cowan,  that  was  where  he 
would  naturally  go  —  to  his  own  people  among  the 
mountains  of  Green  Briar.  The  knowledge  that 
the  real  Raymond  was  actually  expected  to  arrive  in 
western  Virginia  complicated  affairs  greatly,  and 
added  to  my  peril.  But  it  made  my  present  position 
easier,  and  there  might  be  ample  time  for  me  to 
carry  out  my  plans  before  his  appearance  on  the 
scene.  Anyhow  I  had  small  chance  to  choose  at 
present,  and  could  only  drift  as  fate  ordained. 

Riding  as  rapidly  as  the  darkness  made  possible, 
we  clattered  into  the  deserted  street  at  Hot  Springs, 
and  Fox  cursed  vigorously  the  negligent  guard.  The 
sergeant  knew  little  of  where  Major  Harwood  had 
gone,  as  he  had  given  no  orders,  and  not  even  inti- 
mated the  probable  time  of  his  return.  When  last 
seen  he  was  riding  out  the  south  road  accompanied 
only  by  his  servant.  That  was  late  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  sergeant  supposed  they  were  merely  exercis- 
ing the  horses.  Yes,  there  were  two  men  who  passed 
through  the  village  about  dusk,  an  old  mountaineer, 
and  a  young  fellow  in  Confederate  uniform.  He 
didn't  know  where  they  went,  as  he  was  asleep  at 
the  time,  and  Corporal  Green,  and  most  of  the  squad, 
were  fishing  in  the  creek.  The  blacksmith  told  him 


I  Join  the  Federal  Cavalry  55 

about  them,  and  said  they  were  both  on  horseback, 
and  had  taken  the  south  road.  No,  he  hadn't  given 
the  matter  any  further  thought.  Fox  swore  again, 
and  ordered  the  men  into  saddle,  and  we  swung  out 
at  a  sharp  trot  along  the  dirt  pike.  I  rode  next  him, 
but  the  Captain  was  in  such  rage  I  kept  silent,  know- 
ing well  the  tragic  discovery  soon  to  be  revealed.  The 
gray  dawn  began  to  steal  about  us,  making  objects 
near  at  hand  visible,  and  revealing  the  tired  faces 
of  the  cavalrymen.  There  was  sufficient  light  to 
enable  us  to  perceive  the  gloomy  house  in  the  oak 
grove,  and  the  motionless  form  lying  beside  the  gate. 
Fox  drew  up  his  horse  with  a  jerk,  and  leaned  for- 
ward staring. 

"  My  God,  men ! "  he  exclaimed,  choking. 
"  That's  Harwood's  nigger.  Turn  the  body  over, 
Green  —  ah !  the  poor  devil  was  knifed.  Here,  a 
half  dozen  of  you,  unsling  carbines,  and  follow  me 
—  there's  been  dirty  work  done.  Sergeant,  don't  let 
your  men  destroy  those  hoof-prints  in  the  road. 
Lively  now,  lads !  " 

I  advanced  with  them  up  the  driveway,  fearful 
that  if  I  held  back,  it  might  later  be  commented 
upon.  The  front  door  refused  admittance,  but  we 
entered  from  the  rear.  Everything  within  was 
exactly  as  I  had  left  it,  and  in  the  parlor,  still  dark 
because  of  closed  blinds,  lay  the  lifeless  body  of 


56  The  Red  Mist 


Harwood.  Fox  fell  upon  his  knees  beside  the  mo- 
tionless form,  ordering  the  windows  thrown  open, 
his  hands  touching  the  lifeless  flesh. 

"  Dead  for  hours,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of 
horror,  turning  his  gaze  upon  me.  "  Struck  from 
behind  —  see,  Raymond.  What  in  God's  name  can 
this  mean?  " 

He  began  searching  the  pockets. 

"  Not  robbery  —  for  here  is  money,  and  a  watch. 
But  the  papers  are  gone,  every  scrap  of  them."  He 
looked  about  at  the  men.  "  The  Major  had  his 
papers  with  him,  did  he  not,  Chambers'?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  and  the  young,  boyish  soldier  ad- 
dressed straightened  up.  "  I  was  with  him  when  he 
put  on  citizen's  clothes,  and  he  slipped  a  big  buff 
packet  into  his  pocket." 

Fox's  bewildered  glance  met  mine. 

"  Do  you  know  what  that  packet  contained,  Cap- 
tain*? "  I  questioned. 

"  Only  that  it  was  entrusted  to  his  care  by  Gen- 
eral Ramsay,  and  its  destination  was  the  army  on 
the  Potomac." 

"  To  be  forwarded  by  this  man  Taylor?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  Harwood  expected  to  meet 
Taylor  here  at  Hot  Springs,  but  I  think  there  were 
others  to  be  here  also.  The  Major  kept  his  own 
counsel,  but  something  I  overheard  caused  me  to 


I  Join  the  Federal  Cavalry  57 

believe  his  engagement  with  Taylor  was  of  a  more 
private  nature.  Chambers  was  his  clerk,  perhaps  he 
knows." 

The  lad  shook  his  head,  his  eyes  on  the  dead  man. 

"  I'm  certain  those  papers  were  not  meant  for 
him,  sir,"  he  answered  slowly.  "  They  were  to  be 
given  to  a  scout  named  Dailey.  It  was  some  other 
business  that  brought  the  Major  here  all  alone  — 
but  he  never  told  me." 

There  was  nothing  further  to  be  discovered,  and 
Fox  realized  the  necessity  of  haste.  His  orders  were 
prompt.  Four  men  were  detailed  to  bury  the  body, 
and  then  rejoin  the  column  as  soon  as  possible.  The 
others  were  marched  back  to  the  gate,  and 
remounted.  Taylor  had  apparently  made  no  effort 
to  conceal  his  trail,  the  hoof-prints  of  his  horse  show- 
ing clearly  now  daylight  had  returned.  He  had 
ridden  south  at  a  sharp  trot,  and  Fox,  satisfied  as  to 
this  fact,  ordered  his  men  forward.  The  gait  at 
which  we  rode  rendered  conversation  impossible, 
although  my  horse  easily  kept  stride  beside  the  Cap- 
tain. More  and  more  clearly  the  strangeness  of  my 
position  was  borne  in  upon  my  mind  —  here  I  was  in 
Federal  uniform,  in  a  column  of  blue-clad  cavalry, 
riding  desperately  in  pursuit  of  a  fugitive.  It  was 
all  a  series  of  strange  accidents,  and  I  could  not 
figure  out  how  I  was  to  extricate  myself  from  the 


58  The  Red  Mist 


position  I  had  been  compelled  to  assume.  I  had 
been  accepted  without  question,  and  there  was  no 
excuse  I  could  urge  for  escape.  And  how  would  I 
better  my  condition  if  I  discovered  one*?  If  Taylor 
was  a  Confederate  he  would  head  directly  for  Cov- 
ington,  and,  as  soon  as  this  was  determined,  this 
little  squad  of  troopers  would  abandon  pursuit.  He 
had  several  hours  start,  and  it  would  be  foolhardy 
to  attempt  to  overhaul  the  fellow.  But  if  the  man 
turned  west  —  and  surely  there  must  be  a  crossroad 
below  —  Fox  would  keep  on  indefinitely.  The  Cap- 
tain was  of  bulldog  breed,  if  I  was  any  judge  of 
character,  and  his  one  thought  now  was  the  capture 
of  Harwood's  murderer.  Such  a  course  would  bring 
us  into  the  very  heart  of  Green  Briar,  where  my  con- 
nection with  this  squad  of  troopers  would  serve  me 
well. 

It  was  an  hour  later  when  we  came  suddenly  to 
the  fork,  the  south  branch  leading  over  a  long  clay 
hill,  the  west  along  a  rocky  ridge.  Fox  sprang  to 
the  ground,  and  followed  the  faint  prints  of  the 
horse  we  were  pursuing  for  a  hundred  yards  on  foot. 
Some  cattle  had  passed  southward,  but  there  was  a 
defect  in  the  shoe  of  the  animal  Taylor  rode  clearly 
revealed  in  the  clay.  The  Captain  came  back,  a 
grim  smile  on  his  lips. 

"  The  cuss  was  no  Johnny  Reb,"  he  said  shortly. 


I  Join  the  Federal  Cavalry  59 

"  That  was  what  I  was  afraid  of,  but  now  I  know 
what  to  do.  We'll  save  our  horses,  men,  for  this 
is  going  to  be  a  long  ride  —  that  murdering  devil  is 
headed  for  the  Green  Briar.  This  is  the  lower 
Lewisburg  road."  He  swung  up  into  saddle. 
"  Green,  take  three  men  ahead  with  you,  and  keep 
half  a  mile  in  advance.  Watch  out  carefully,  for 
there  may  be  graybacks  along  here.  Going  with  us, 
Lieutenant?  " 

"  About  the  best  thing  I  can  do,"  I  replied  read- 
ily, "  my  orders  were  for  Green  Briar  and  Fayette." 

"All  right,  then,  but  they  had  small  respect  for 
your  life  when  they  sent  you  in  there.  From  all  I 
hear  it  is  like  a  menagerie  of  wild  animals  broken 
loose  —  good  fighting  anywhere.  Only  trouble  will 
be  there  is  so  much  at  home  there  will  be  no  need 
for  the  boys  to  enlist.  However  that's  your  affair, 
not  mine."  His  eyes  surveyed  his  men  keenly. 
"  Loosen  carbines !  Forward  march !  Trot !  " 

Silently,  save  for  the  jingle  of  accoutrements,  and 
the  thud  of  horses'  feet,  we  rode  westward,  sunlight 
flecking  the  dusty  uniforms.  The  pike  dipped  down 
into  a  hollow,  and,  climbing  the  hill  beyond,  ap- 
peared the  figures  of  the  four  scouts.  Far  away  was 
the  haze  of  the  mountains. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  NIGHT  ATTACK 

HE  incidents  of  that  ride  do  not  remain 
with  me  in  any  special  clearness  of  de- 
tail. In  fact  it  was  comparatively  un- 
eventful, the  road  apparently  little 
used  at  any  time,  and  now  absolutely  deserted  except 
for  our  party.  In  all  probability  the  fugitive  had 
chosen  it  for  this  very  reason,  aware  of  its  loneli- 
ness. Taylor  also  must  have  held  in  contempt  any 
possible  pursuit,  as  he  made  no  attempt  at  concealing 
his  trail.  We  followed  as  rapidly  as  the  condition 
of  our  horses  would  warrant,  but  we  were  soon  aware 
that  the  murderer  was  steadily  increasing  the  dis- 
tance between.  The  man  evidently  knew  the  coun- 
try, and  had  friends.  There  were  few  houses  visible, 
and  these  were  completely  deserted  on  our  arrival, 
yet  at  some  of  them  the  fugitive  must  have  found 
food,  and  at  one  a  fresh  mount.  We  marked  where 
the  old  horse,  with  the  broken  shoe  identifying  it, 
had  been  led  aside  into  the  bushes,  and  then  the 
hoof-prints  of  another  animal,  of  longer  stride,  ap- 
peared in  the  dirt  road.  The  trail  of  the  discarded 

60 


The  Night  Attack  61 

horse  led  along  the  bank  of  a  rocky  creek,  and  dis- 
appeared utterly  within  a  deep  ravine.  The  print  of 
a  bare  foot  seemed  to  tell  the  tale  of  a  boy  at  the 
bridle  rein. 

We  rode  steadily,  keeping  well  together,  conscious 
that  in  all  probability  we  were  watched  by  hostile 
eyes,  peering  out  from  behind  rock  and  thicket.  The 
road  became  rougher,  more  difficult  to  travel.  There 
were  paths,  dim,  shadowed  by  brush,  leading  off 
occasionally  on  either  side  —  possibly  to  some  cabin, 
and  little  clearing,  hidden  and  obscure.  We  foraged 
through  deserted  shacks,  finding  poor  reward,  yet 
managed  to  subsist,  although  with  hunger  unsatis- 
fied. The  men  grumbled,  and  Fox  swore,  as  all  alike 
realized  the  uselessness  of  attempting  to  overhaul 
the  fleeing  man.  The  impotent  pursuit  was  a  joke 
to  him,  already  safe  in  the  foothills,  and  guarded 
from  surprise.  Long  before  night  came  the  captain 
comprehended  the  fact  that  we  were  on  a  fool's  er- 
rand; that  his  little  squad  was  being  lured  deeper 
and  deeper  into  a  hostile  country,  but  no  opportunity 
to  turn  aside  presented  itself.  To  return  would  only 
bring  us  closer  to  the  Confederate  lines  at  Coving- 
ton,  and  we  found  no  road  leading  northward.  Fox's 
field  map  pictured  one,  however,  close  at  hand,  and 
in  the  hope  of  attaining  this  before  darkness  finally 
set  in,  we  pressed  the  wearied  horses  desperately.  The 


62  The  Red  Mist 

night  overtook  us  in  midst  of  a  mountain  solitude. 
The  scouts  had  discovered  a  spring  at  the  bottom  of 
a  rocky  hollow,  and  there  Fox  reluctantly  ordered 
camp  to  be  made,  the  horses  finding  scant  pasturage 
beyond.  The  night  was  chill,  but  there  was  nothing 
to  cook,  and  no  fires  were  lighted,  the  men  munching 
at  whatever  they  had  in  their  haversacks,  and  en- 
deavoring to  extract  some  warmth  from  their  thin 
blankets.  The  grumbling  and  cursing  soon  ceased, 
however,  and  those  not  on  duty  slept  fitfully.  I 
made  the  round  of  the  sentries  with  Fox,  slipping 
and  stumbling  over  the  rough  way,  through  the  dark- 
ness, until  we  again  found  refuge  beside  the  spring. 
The  night  was  black  and  still.  We  could  hear  the 
restless  movements  of  the  horses,  the  mournful  cry 
of  some  wild  bird.  The  captain  was  but  a  dim 
shadow  barely  outlined  in  the  gloom. 

"  This  weird  place  gets  on  the  nerves,"  he  said,  as 
if  half  ashamed  of  the  confession.  "  Do  you  know, 
Raymond,  I  have  felt  for  the  last  hour  as  if  we  were 
riding  into  some  trap."  He  glanced  nervously  be- 
hind him.  "  I  don't  believe  there  has  ever  been  a 
Federal  detachment  down  as  far  as  this  before. 
We're  in  old  Ned  Cowan's  country." 

"Confederate*?"  I  asked,  interested  at  once  by 
the  name. 

"  Heaven  knows !    To  the  best  of  my  belief  the 


The  Night  Attack  63 

fellow  doesn't  give  a  whoop  for  either  side.  He's 
just  a  natural  born  devil,  and  this  war  gave  him  a 
chance  to  get  the  hell  out  of  his  system.  If  half  the 
stories  told  about  him  are  true  he  is  a  fiend  for 
cruelty,  ready  enough  to  fight  either  side  if  they 
interfere;  still,  I  guess,  he  calls  himself  a  Reb." 

"And  his  followers?" 

"A  motley  crew  of  mountain  men  mostly,  scat- 
tered all  through  here,  together  with  a  bunch  of 
deserters  and  conscripts  from  both  sides  who  have 
naturally  drifted  to  him.  Nobody  knows  how  big 
a  band  he  has,  but  it  would  take  an  army  to  run 
them  out  of  these  mountains.  We  had  orders  to  do 
it  —  but  piffle !  Ramsay  came  down  as  far  as  Fay- 
ette  Court  House  with  a  regiment  of  infantry,  and  a 
cavalry  guard,  and  sent  out  a  flag  of  truce  asking  the 
old  devil  to  come  in  and  talk  with  him.  He  actually 
did  come;  rode  right  up  to  headquarters,  with  a 
dozen  of  his  ragged  followers,  heard  what  Ramsay 
had  to  say,  and  then  simply  told  the  general  to  go  to 
hell,  and  rode  off  again." 

"  Were  you  there*?  did  you  see  the  men"?  " 

"No,  but  the  sergeant  did;  he  was  detailed  at 
that  time  as  headquarters'  orderly." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  determined  on  my  course,  "  I  was 
talking  with  Hayden  during  the  noon  halt.  He  de- 
scribed Cowan  to  me,  and  I  believe  he  is  the  same 


64  The  Red  Mist 

man  I  encountered  at  Hot  Springs,  Captain  Fox  — 
the  fellow  Taylor  we  are  in  pursuit  of." 

The  captain  stared  into  the  black  night,  silent  for 
several  minutes. 

"  I've  been  suspecting  the  same  thing  for  the  last 
three  hours,"  he  admitted  at  last  slowly,  "  and  that 
he  hoped  we  would  follow  him.  The  fellow  hasn't 
ridden  fast,  and  has  purposely  left  a  plain  trail. 
More  than  that  he  was  expected  along  this  road,  and 
there  were  relays  of  horses  waiting.  He  only 
changed  once,  but  he  was  met  by  another  party  near 
that  ruined  mill.  Ever  since  then  I  have  felt  that 
we  were  being  watched  by  unseen  eyes.  Did  you 
observe  the  curl  of  smoke  to  our  right  just  before 
dark  —  how  it  rose  and  fell  in  rings  ?  " 

"  I  saw  the  smoke,  yes  —  a  thin  spiral,  but  sup- 
posed it  to  be  from  the  chimney  of  some  mountain 
shack." 

"  Well,  it  was  not.  That  was  an  outside  fire,  and 
the  smoke  was  smothered,  and  then  thrown  up  by 
blankets.  That  is  their  way  of  signaling.  I  tell  you, 
Lieutenant,  this  murder  of  Harwood  is  more  than  an 
army  matter.  It  was  either  the  culmination  of  a 
feud  —  done  for  personal  revenge;  or  else  the  Major 
had  papers  in  his  possession  bearing  on  the  situation 
here  that  could  only  be  gained  over  his  dead  body. 
The  man  who  killed  him  was  old  Ned  Cowan." 


The  Night  Attack  65 

"  But  Harwood  must  have  known  him,"  I  pro- 
tested. 

"  Of  course  he  did;  they  were  neighbors  before  the 
war,  and  met  there  by  appointment.  For  all  I  know 
the  Major  may  have  had  some  confidential  commu- 
nication from  the  War  Department.  God  knows, 
what  it  was.  All  I  am  sure  about  is  that  I  would 
give  a  good  deal  to  be  out  of  this  fix  right  now,  and 
twenty  miles  to  the  north  of  here." 

We  sat  there  for  half  an  hour,  discussing  the  mat- 
ter, and  endeavoring  to  convince  ourselves  the  dan- 
ger was  less  than  we  imagined.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  done  but  wait  for  daylight.  We  could  not 
possibly  proceed  through  that  darkness,  along  the 
unknown  mountain  road.  We  would  be  safer  where 
we  were,  quietly  hidden  away  in  this  cleft  of  the 
rocks.  Finally  Fox  crept  forth  again  to  make  an- 
other round  of  the  pickets,  to  assure  himself  they 
were  alert,  and  I  lay  down  in  a  little  hollow,  and 
rolled  up  in  my  blanket.  Above  me  I  could  see  but 
one  star  peering  through  a  rift  of  cloud,  and,  except 
for  the  heavy  breathing  of  the  men,  and  their  rest- 
less turning,  there  was  scarcely  a  sound.  Even  the 
wind  had  ceased  to  rattle  the  dead  leaves.  The  very 
silence  seemed  a  pledge  of  safety,  and,  before  the 
Captain  returned,  I  had  fallen  asleep. 

The  chill  of  the  night  awoke  me,  cold  and  shiver- 


66  The  Red  Mist 


ing.  The  wind  had  arisen,  and  swept  down  the  fun- 
nel in  which  I  lay,  with  an  icy  breath  against  which 
my  single  blanket  afforded  no  protection.  I  must 
get  back  against  the  rock,  wherever  I  could  find  shel- 
ter. Gripping  the  blanket  in  one  hand,  I  crept 
quietly  up  the  gully,  possibly  a  distance  of  fifty  feet 
before  encountering  the  rock  wall.  I  felt  my  way 
blindly,  and  groped  about  until  I  discovered  a  few 
tufts  of  grass  on  which  to  lie  down,  but  these  proved 
so  scant  as  to  yield  little  comfort,  and  I  tossed  about, 
every  bone  aching,  unable  to  lose  consciousness. 
There  was  no  sign  of  dawn  in  the  sky,  nor  could  I  see 
the  face  of  my  watch  to  determine  the  hour.  The 
man  who  had  been  lying  next  me,  however,  was  gone, 
and  so  there  must  have  been  a  change  of  guard  while 
I  slept.  I  could  distinguish,  dimly  outlined  against 
the  sky,  the  overhanging  rock-wall  which  enclosed 
our  camp,  and  the  deeper  shade  of  a  cleft  a  yard  or 
two  to  my  left,  where  the  dead  trunk  of  a  tree  stood 
like  a  gaunt,  ugly  sentinel.  Even  as  I  lay  staring 
the  figure  of  a  man  slipped  out  from  behind  its  pro- 
tection, and,  dropping  on  hands  and  knees,  crept  for- 
ward across  the  open  space.  Another  and  another 
followed,  mere  ghost-like  shadows,  scarcely  appear- 
ing real.  They  were  within  two  yards  of  me,  but 
their  appearance,  their  passing  was  so  swift  and 
silent,  as  to  leave  me  dazed  and  mystified.  For  the 


The  Night  Attack  67 

instant  I  doubted  my  eyesight,  imagined  I  dreamed. 
Then,  before  I  could  raise  voice  in  alarm,  a  rifle  spat 
viciously,  the  red  flame  of  its  discharge  cleaving  the 
night.  A  fusillade  followed,  and  in  the  flare  I  caught 
grotesque  glimpses  of  men  leaping  forward,  and 
there  was  a  confused  yelling  of  voices,  a  din  of  noise. 
I  was  upon  my  knees,  revolver  in  hand,  but  in  the 
melee  below  could  not  distinguish  friend  from  foe 
—  alike  they  were  a  blur  of  figures,  one  instant  vis- 
ible, the  next  obscured.  Yet  there  could  be  no  doubt 
as  to  the  final  ending  of  the  struggle.  Taken  by  sur- 
prise, outnumbered,  the  little  squad  of  troopers 
would  be  crushed,  annihilated.  Nor  was  there  reason 
why  I  should  sacrifice  myself  in  their  defense  —  a 
valueless  sacrifice.  My  choice  was  instantly  made, 
as  there  flashed  to  my  mind  what  my  fate  would  be 
if  I  ever  fell  into  Cowan's  hands  attired  in  Federal 
uniform.  On  hands  and  knees  I  crept  to  the  cleft  in 
the  rock  wall,  and  began  to  clamber  up  over  the 
irregular  rocks.  It  was  not  likely  any  guards  had 
been  left  behind  when  the  mountaineers  descended, 
and  I  must  be  beyond  sound  before  the  din  of  fight- 
ing ceased.  It  was  a  steep  climb,  dangerous  no  doubt 
in  the  dark,  yet  I  was  desperate  enough  to  give  this 
peril  scarcely  a  thought.  The  shouts  and  yells,  the 
cries  for  mercy,  the  sound  of  blows,  grew  fainter 
and  finally  ceased  altogether.  Leaning  back,  and 


68  The  Red  Mist 


looking  down,  I  could  perceive  nothing  in  the  black 
void.  A  voice  shouted  an  order,  but  it  sounded  far 
off,  and  indistinct.  I  was  in  a  narrow  gully,  the 
incline  less  steep  than  amid  the  rocks  below,  and 
could  perceive  the  lighter  canopy  of  the  sky  not  far 
above  me.  As  I  crept  out  into  the  open  space,  some- 
one touched  match  to  a  pile  of  dry  limbs  in  the  cove 
below,  and  the  red  flames  leaped  high,  revealing  the 
scene.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  it  —  staring  down  as 
though  I  clung  at  the  mouth  of  hell,  seeing  moving 
black  figures,  and  the  dark,  motionless  shadows  of 
dead  men.  The  one  glimpse  was  enough,  the  fearful 
tragedy  of  it  smiting  me  like  a  blow,  and  I  turned 
and  ran,  stumbling  over  the  rough  ground,  my  only 
thought  that  of  escape. 

There  were  stars  in  the  sky,  their  dim  light  suffi- 
cient to  yield  some  faint  guidance.  It  occurred  to 
me,  even  in  the  terror  of  my  flight,  that  the  attack- 
ing party  doubtless  had  horses  tethered  somewhere 
to  the  left.  Yet  they  would  be  under  guard,  and  I 
dare  not  seek  them.  My  course  led  me  close  beside 
the  edge  of  the  ridge ;  I  could  see  the  reflection  of  the 
fire  below  on  the  opposite  hillside,  but  I  soon  left 
this  behind,  and  plunged  thankfully  forward  into 
the  concealing  shadow  of  a  wood.  Here  the  ground 
fell  away  to  the  banks  of  a  shallow  stream,  and  some 
instinct  of  woodcraft  led  me  to  wade  down  with  its 


The  Night  Attack  69 

current  for  a  considerable  distance,  until  the  icy 
water  drove  me  to  the  bank  once  more.  I  was  wet 
and  cold,  shivering  with  the  chill  of  the  air,  although 
my  cavalry  boots  had  kept  my  feet  dry.  I  knew  I 
had  covered  several  miles,  and  must  be  beyond  pur- 
suit and  safe  from  discovery.  The  spot  wherein  I 
found  myself  was  the  dry  bed  of  a  creek,  overhung 
by  bushes,  its  rocks  strewn  with  dry  fragments  of 
wood  washed  down  by  some  past  freshet.  No  longer 
obsessed  by  fear  of  being  pursued,  I  gathered  an 
armful  and  set  them  ablaze,  lying  as  close  as  pos- 
sible to  the  flame  until  the  grateful  warmth  brought 
new  courage  and  hope.  I  remained  there  until  dawn, 
the  first  gray  light  giving  assurance  that  my  flight 
had  been  to  the  north  along  the  foothills.  From  the 
ridge  top  a  wide  vista  lay  revealed  of  rough,  seem- 
ingly uninhabited  country,  growing  more  distinct  as 
the  light  strengthened.  There  was  no  house  visible, 
no  sign  of  any  road;  all  about  extended  a  rude  moun- 
tain solitude,  but  to  the  northwest  there  was  a  per- 
ceptible break  in  the  chain  of  hills,  as  though  a  pass 
led  down  into  the  concealed  valley  beyond.  With 
this  for  guidance  I  plunged  forward,  eager  to  get 
out  of  that  drear  wilderness. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SHELTER  FROM   THE   STORM 

T  WAS  a  hard  tramp,  the  notch  in  the  hills 
farther  away  than  I  had  reckoned  upon, 
and  the  ground  between  extremely  diffi- 
cult to  travel  over.  At  times  an  im- 
penetrable tangle  of  brush  turned  me  aside,  and  I 
was  obliged  to  skirt  numerous  ravines  which  were 
impassable.  Yet  I  held  stubbornly  to  the  course, 
seeing  no  other  way  out  from  the  tangle,  and  stum- 
bled steadily  forward,  my  body  aching  from  fatigue, 
and  growing  weak  from  hunger.  It  was  considerably 
after  the  noon  hour  before  I  came  upon  the  first  sign 
of  human  life  —  an  old  logging  road.  Weed  over- 

C—/VJ  CJ 

grown,  and  evidently  long  abandoned,  it  was  never- 
theless a  most  welcome  discovery,  and  I  limped  on 
between  its  ruts,  animated  by  new  hope.  The 
weather  had  turned  colder,  and  there  were  whirling 
flakes  of  snow  in  the  air.  The  direction  I  traveled 
compelled  me  to  face  the  storm,  and  the  wind 
whipped  my  face  cruelly.  An  hour  more  of  struggle 
brought  me  suddenly  on  a  dismal  shack  of  logs  in  the 
midst  of  a  small  clearing.  I  hesitated  at  the  edge  of 

70 


Shelter  from  the  Storm  71 

the  wood,  peering  through  the  snow.  The  scene  was 
a  desolate  one,  the  clearing  overgrown  with  weeds, 
the  hut  barely  fit  for  habitation.  Yet  the  very  des- 
peration of  my  situation  compelled  me  to  chance 
its  occupancy,  and  I  pushed  a  way  forward  through 
the  weeds,  discovering  no  path,  until  I  attained  the 
door.  It  was  closed,  but  unfastened,  and,  revolver 
in  hand,  I  opened  it  softly  and  stepped  within. 
There  was  but  one  room,  and  that  bare,  except  for 
an  empty  box  or  two,  and  a  few  discarded  garments 
hanging  from  pegs  against  the  wall.  A  gun  with 
broken  lock  stood  in  one  corner  beside  an  axe,  and  a 
rudely  constructed  fireplace  occupied  one  end.  There 
was  no  other  entrance,  and  the  single  window  was 
securely  closed.  The  light  streaming  in  through  the 
door  revealed  these  details,  and  that  the  room  was 
unoccupied.  Yet  someone  had  been  there,  and  not 
so  very  long  ago,  for  there  were  scraps  of  food  on 
one  of  the  overturned  boxes,  and  a  faint,  barely  per- 
ceptible curl  of  smoke  arose  from  the  black  ashes 
on  the  hearth. 

Whoever  the  former  occupant  might  be,  or  where 
he  had  gone,  was  of  small  moment  to  me  just  then. 
It  was  enough  to  be  assured  that  he  had  departed. 
The  sight  of  those  food  fragments  renewed  my  con- 
sciousness of  hunger,  revived  my  sense  of  chilly  dis- 
comfort. I  glanced  without  into  the  storm  and 


72  The  Red  Mist 


closed  the  door,  changing  the  interior  into  twilight 
gloom.  Using  the  axe  I  soon  had  a  cheerful  fire 
going,  and  as  the  warmth  of  the  flame  became  per- 
ceptible, began  eager  search  for  something  to  eat. 
I  almost  despaired  of  success  in  this  effort,  but  by 
chance  pushing  aside  one  of  the  garments  on  the 
side  wall,  discovered  a  haversack  in  which  remained 
some  hard  bread  and  a  bit  of  home-smoked  bacon. 
Unappetizing  as  these  appeared,  I  sat  down  before 
the  fire  and  ate  heartily.  I  dared  not  sleep,  and 
indeed  felt  little  inclination  to  do  so,  my  mind  busy 
with  recollections  of  the  night's  adventures,  and 
planning  my  future  course  of  action.  I  thought  of 
Fox,  and  his  men,  wondering  who  among  them  all 
had  fallen  during  the  fight,  and  what  might  be  the 
fate  of  the  others.  It  was  Cowan,  no  doubt,  and  his 
mountaineers,  who  had  attacked,  and  there  would 
be  little  mercy  shown.  This  hut  likely  was  the  abode 
of  one  of  the  gang,  and  I  gazed  about  in  renewed 
disgust.  It  would  be  well  for  me  to  be  away  before 
the  owner  returned,  yet  I  lingered,  seduced  by  the 
warmth  of  the  fire,  and  dreading  the  storm  without. 
The  fellow  would  not  come  back  probably  until  the 
snow  ceased.  Nor  did  I  in  the  least  know  where  I 
was  to  go  —  except  that  I  must  push  along  to  the 
north,  out  of  Cowan's  country.  Once  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Lewisburg,  I  would  be  on  more  familiar 


Shelter  from  the  Storm  73 

ground,  and  could  proceed  with  the  work  assigned 
me.  If  there  were  Federal  troops  there  I  would 
boldly  report  the  fate  of  Fox's  detachment,  proclaim 
my  own  purpose  as  a  recruiting  officer,  and  request 
protection.  My  papers,  my  intimacy  with  Captain 
Fox,  and  the  knowledge  throughout  the  district  that 
a  Lieutenant  Raymond  had  been  detailed  to  this 
service,  would  disarm  all  suspicion.  And  in  my 
judgment  Lewisburg  was  in  that  valley  ahead  — 
might  indeed  be  visible  at  the  other  end  of  the  gap. 
I  got  to  my  feet,  somewhat  reluctantly,  and 
opened  the  door.  The  storm  had  ceased,  but  the 
ground  was  white,  and  the  wind  still  whipped  the 
snow  viciously.  There  was  no  excuse,  however,  for 
not  going  forward,  and  closing  the  door  securely 
behind  me  I  ploughed  through  the  tangle  of  weeds 
back  to  the  road.  A  hundred  yards  below  I  came  to 
a  pike,  along  which  a  wagon  had  passed  since  the 
fall  of  snow.  The  vehicle  had  been  drawn  by  mules, 
and  their  narrow  hoof  marks  pointed  to  the  valley. 
I  followed  cautiously,  making  no  effort  to  overtake 
the  outfit,  and  thus,  just  before  sundown,  emerged 
from  the  narrow  gap  and  looked  down  into  the  broad 
valley  of  the  Green  Briar.  It  was  a  scene  to  linger 
in  the  memory,  and  at  my  first  glance  I  knew  where 
I  was,  recognizing  the  familiar  objects  outspread 
before  me.  The  road  led  downward,  turning  and 


74  The  Red  Mist 


twisting  as  it  sought  the  easier  grades,  and,  no  longer 
obscured  by  snow,  the  soil  showed  red  and  yellow. 
The  wagon  was  already  nearly  to  the  bottom  of  the 
hill,  distinguished  by  its  spread  of  dirty  canvas  top. 
Other  than  this  I  could  perceive  no  moving  ob- 
ject, except  what  appeared  to  be  either  a  body  of 
horsemen,  or  bunch  of  cattle,  far  away  to  the  left. 
Lewisburg  lay  beyond  a  spur  of  the  hills,  invisible 
from  my  position,  although  distant  spirals  of  smoke 
indicated  its  presence.  A  few  log  huts  appeared 
along  the  curving  road,  the  one  nearest  me  in  ruins, 
while  a  gaunt  chimney  beside  a  broad  stream  un- 
bridged  was  all  that  remained  of  a  former  mill.  Be- 
yond this,  in  midst  of  a  grove  of  noble  trees,  a  large 
house,  painted  white,  was  the  only  conspicuous  feat- 
ure in  the  landscape.  I  recognized  it  at  once  as  the 
residence  of  Major  Harwood. 

My  gaze  rested  upon  it,  as  memory  of  the  man, 
and  his  fate,  surged  freshly  back  into  mind.  The 
place  had  been  spared  destruction;  it  remained 
unchanged  —  but  from  that  distance  there  was 
nothing  to  indicate  that  the  house  was  still  occupied. 
It  had  the  appearance  of  desertion  —  no  smoke 
showing  above  the  broad  chimney,  no  figures  moving 
either  about  the  main  house,  or  the  negro  cabins  at 
the  rear.  This  condition  was  no  particular  surprise, 
for  Harwood' s  daughter,  scarcely  more  than  a  girl 


Shelter  from  the  Storm  75 

to  my  remembrance,  would  not  likely  remain  there 
isolated  and  alone  during  such  troublesome  times, 
and  the  servants  had  doubtless  long  since  disap- 
peared in  search  of  freedom.  The  young  woman 
would  doubtless  be  with  friends,  either  in  Lewisburg 
or  Charleston;  and  that  the  mansion,  thus  deserted, 
still  remained  undestroyed  was,  after  all,  not  so 
strange,  for  the  Major's  standing  throughout  that 
section  would  protect  his  property.  He  would  retain 
friends  on  each  side  of  the  warring  factions  who 
would  prevent  wanton  destruction.  I  moved  on 
down  the  steep  descent,  losing  sight  of  the  house  as 
the  road  twisted  about  the  hill,  although  memory  of 
it  did  not  desert  my  mind.  Some  odd  inclination 
seemed  to  impel  me  to  turn  aside  and  study  the 
situation  there  more  closely.  Possibly  some  key  to 
the  mystery  of  Harwood's  murder  —  some  connec- 
tion between  him  and  old  Ned  Cowan  —  might  be 
revealed  in  a  search  of  the  deserted  home.  Fox  had 
said  that  his  party  halted  at  the  house  on  their  march 
east  toward  Hot  Springs.  Some  scrap  of  paper 
might  have  been  left  behind  in  the  hurry  of  depart- 
ure, which  would  yield  me  a  clue.  If  not  this,  then 
there  might  be  other  papers  stored  there  relating  to 
military  affairs  in  this  section  of  value  to  the  Con- 
federacy. Harwood  was  the  undoubted  leader  of 
the  Union  sympathizers  throughout  the  entire 


76  The  Red  Mist 


region;  he  would  have  lists  of  names,  and  memo- 
randa of  meetings,  containing  information  which 
would  help  me  greatly  in  my  quest.  An  exploration 
could  not  be  a  matter  of  any  great  danger,  and  might 
yield  me  the  very  knowledge  I  sought. 

I  had  almost  determined  on  this  course  when  I 
came  to  the  cross-road,  which  I  knew  ran  directly 
in  front  of  the  house.  It  was  already  growing  dark, 
clouds  hanging  low  over  the  valley,  and,  as  I  paused 
irresolute,  a  cold  drizzle  set  in,  the  north  wind 
sweeping  the  dampness  into  my  face.  Determined 
by  this  I  turned  aside  into  the  new  road,  and  pressed 
forward,  only  anxious  now  to  find  shelter.  The  road 
twisted  about  along  the  bank  of  a  small  stream  shad- 
owed by  trees  on  either  side.  I  passed  the  ruins  of 
the  mill,  but  beyond  the  night  closed  about  me  so 
dark  that  objects  became  shapeless,  and  I  even  found 
difficulty  in  following  the  path,  although  it  was 
seemingly  a  well  traveled  road.  Only  detached  sec- 
tions of  rail  fence  remained  standing,  and  I  should 
have  stumbled  blindly  past  the  very  place  I  sought 
but  for  the  high  stone  pillars  which  marked  the  place 
where  the  gate  had  once  been.  These  guided  me  to 
the  driveway,  and  I  groped  a  passage  through  the 
grove  of  trees  to  the  front  steps. 

The  great  house  loomed  before  me  black  and 
silent.  If  I  had  ever  questioned  its  desertion  its 


Shelter  from  the  Storm  77 

appearance  lulled  every  such  suspicion.  Nor  had  it 
escaped  unscathed  from  the  despoilation  of  war.  At 
a  distance,  gazing  from  the  side  of  the  mountain,  I 
could  perceive  no  change.  But  now,  close  at  hand, 
even  the  intense  darkness  could  not  hide  the  scars 
left  by  vandals.  The  front  steps  were  broken,  splin- 
tered as  if  by  an  axe,  and  the  supporting  pillars  of 
the  wide  veranda  had  been  hacked  and  gashed.  The 
door  above  was  tightly  closed,  yet  both  the  windows 
to  the  right  were  smashed  in,  sash  and  all,  leaving  a 
wide  opening.  I  crept  forward,  and  endeavored  to 
peer  through,  but  the  darkness  within  was  opaque. 
The  only  sound  was  the  beating  of  rain  on  the  roof 
overhead.  Occasionally  the  swirl  of  the  wind  drove 
the  cold  drops  against  me  where  I  crouched  listen- 
ing; I  was  wet  through,  chilled  to  the  bone,  my  uni- 
form clinging  to  me  like  soaked  paper.  At  least  the 
inside  promised  shelter  from  the  storm,  a  chance  for 
a  fire,  and  possibly  fragments  of  food.  And  I  had 
nothing  to  fear  but  darkness. 

My  revolver  was  under  the  flap  of  my  cavalry 
jacket,  dry  and  ready  for  use.  I  brought  it  forward, 
within  easy  grip,  and  stepped  over  the  sill.  My  feet 
touched  carpet,  littered  with  broken  glass,  and  I  felt 
about  cautiously,  locating  an  overturned  chair,  and 
a  cushioned  settee,  minus  one  leg.  My  recollection 
of  the  interior  of  the  house  was  vague  and  indistinct 


78  The  Red  Mist 


—  the  remembrance  only  of  one  brief  visit  made 
there  years  before,  a  boy  of  ten  with  my  father.  I 
had  never  been  in  this  room,  which  must  be  the  par- 
lor, but  I  knew  a  wide  hallway  led  straight  through 
from  front  door  to  back,  bisected  only  by  a  broad 
stairway  leading  to  the  upper  story.  The  library 
would  be  opposite  directly  across  the  hall,  and  the 
dining  room  behind  that.  I  had  been  in  both  these 
apartments,  and  they  had  seemed  to  me  then  spacious 
and  wonderful;  quite  the  most  remarkable  rooms  I 
had  ever  seen.  I  groped  along  the  inside  wall,  seek- 
ing the  door,  making  no  particular  effort  to  be  noise- 
less, yet  rendered  cautious  by  fear  of  stumbling  over 
misplaced  furniture.  The  apartment  was  evidently 
in  much  disorder,  glass  crackling  under  my  feet,  and 
a  breadth  of  thick  carpet  torn  up,  so  that  I  tripped 
over  it,  and  nearly  fell.  Yet  I  found  the  door  at' 
last,  standing  wide  open,  and  emerged  into  the  hall. 
The  way  was  clearer  here,  and  there  came  into  my 
mind  the  recollection  of  a  bracket  lamp,  on  the  wall 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Perhaps  it  was  there  still, 
and  might  contain  oil.  If  this  could  be  located,  a 
light  would  be  of  great  assistance,  and  could  not  add 
very  much  to  my  peril  of  discovery.  No  one  would 
be  abroad  in  this  desolate  country  on  such  a  night  of 
storm,  and  the  house  was  utterly  abandoned.  Besides, 
the  heavy  blinds  at  most  of  the  windows  were  closed 


79 


tightly.  My  remembrance  of  the  position  of  the 
lamp  was  extremely  vague,  yet  my  fingers  found  it 
at  last,  and  lifted  it  from  the  bracket.  The  globe 
contained  oil,  and,  in  another  moment,  the  light 
revealed  my  immediate  surroundings. 

Except  for  a  broken  stair  rail  the  hall  remained  in 
good  order,  a  storm-coat  hanging  beside  the  front 
door,  and  a  serving  table  and  low  rocker  occupying 
the  recess  behind  the  stairway.  I  could  see  nearly  to 
the  further  end,  where  a  bench  stood  against  the  wall 
with  some  garment  flung  over  it,  and  up  the  stairs 
to  the  blackness  of  the  second  story.  The  total 
desertion  of  the  place  was  evident;  the  destruction 
which  had  been  wrought  was  plainly  the  work  of 
cowardly  vandals,  who  had  broken  in  after  the  Har- 
woods  left.  Convinced  of  this  truth  I  proceeded 
fearlessly  to  explore,  seeking  merely  the  warmth  of 
a  fire  and  food.  The  library,  a  large  room,  the  walls 
lined  with  bookcases,  afforded  no  encouragement, 
but  I  stopped  in  amazement  at  the  door  of  the  din- 
ing room  —  the  light  of  my  lamp  revealing  a  table 
at  which  someone  had  lately  eaten,  apparently  alone. 
There  was  a  single  plate,  a  cup  and  saucer,  a  half 
loaf  of  bread,  with  a  slice  cut,  part  of  a  ham  bone, 
with  considerable  meat  remaining  untouched,  and  a 
small  china  teapot.  For  an  instant  the  unexpected 
sight  of  these  articles  fascinated  me,  and  then  my 


80  The  Red  Mist 


eyes  caught  a  dull  glow  in  the  fireplace  at  the  oppo- 
site end  of  the  room  —  the  red  gleam  of  a  live 
ember. 

I  could  not  actually  credit  the  evidence  of  my  own 
eyes,  firmly  believing,  for  an  instant,  the  glow  was 
but  the  reflection  of  the  light  held  in  my  hands.  Yet 
a  step  forward  convinced  me  —  the  ashes  of  the  fire- 
place radiated  warmth;  someone  then  had  been  in 
that  very  room  within  an  hour,  had  warmed  himself 
there,  and  partaken  of  food.  The  shock  of  this  dis- 
covery was  so  sudden  as  to  give  me  a  strange, 
haunted  feeling.  The  house  had  seemed  so  com- 
pletely deserted,  so  desolate,  wrapped  in  silence  and 
darkness,  that  the  very  conception  that  someone  else 
was  hiding  there  came  upon  me  like  a  blow.  Who 
could  the  person  be?  A  faithful  slave  remaining  to 
guard  the  property  for  his  master4?  Some  fugitive 
who,  like  myself,  had  sought  shelter  from  the  storm? 
Or  Old  Ned  Cowan  seeking  to  complete  his  myste- 
rious purpose?  Could  this  be  the  aftermath  of  the 
murder?  A  search  after  papers  not  found  upon 
the  body  of  the  dead  man?  Somehow  my  mind  set- 
tled to  this  theory,  leaped  to  this  conclusion  —  the 
prowler  was  Cowan,  or  else  some  emissary  he  had 
sent.  Well,  I  would  find  out.  Thus  far  the  advan- 
tage was  mine,  for  I  knew  of  another  presence,  while 
the  fellow,  whoever  he  might  prove  to  be,  in  all 


Shelter  from  the  Storm  81 

probability  possessed  no  knowledge  of  my  entrance. 
Perhaps  he  had  already  completed  his  search  and  de- 
parted; if  not,  then  he  must  be  somewhere  on  the  sec- 
ond floor,  for  if  below  he  would  have  certainly  per- 
ceived my  light  or  been  alarmed  by  the  sound  of 
my  movements. 

My  heart  beat  fast,  but  from  excitement,  not  fear. 
With  cocked  revolver  in  one  hand,  the  lamp  in  the 
other,  I  silently  opened  door  after  door,  peering  into 
vacant  apartments,  half  thinking  every  shadow  to  be 
a  skulking  figure.  The  search  revealed  nothing;  not 
even  further  evidence  of  any  presence  in  the  house. 
The  kitchen  fire  was  cold,  the  cooking  utensils  clean, 
and  in  their  proper  places.  The  back  door  was 
bolted  from  within,  the  windows  securely  closed.  I 
listened  for  any  sound,  but  the  house  was  as  silent  as 
a  tomb ;  I  could  hear  the  patter  of  rain,  the  scraping 
of  a  limb  against  the  outer  wall,  but  not  the  faintest 
movement  within.  Satisfied  already  that  the  mys- 
terious invader  had  departed,  yet  sternly  determined 
now  to  explore  the  whole  house,  and  have  done  with 
the  business,  I  mounted  the  back  stairway,  a  strip  of 
rag  carpet  rendering  my  steps  silent,  and,  with  head 
above  the  landing,  flashed  my  light  cautiously  along 
the  upper  hall.  There  were  doors  on  either  side,  the 
most  of  them  open,  but  the  third  to  the  left  was 
closed.  There  was  no  transom  over  it,  but  the  door 


82  The  Red  Mist 

was  far  enough  away  from  the  radius  of  my  lamp  so 
as  to  reveal  a  faint  glow  of  light  at  the  floor  line. 
I  sat  the  lamp  down  on  the  landing,  and  crept  noise- 
lessly forward  to  assure  myself;  it  was  true,  a  light 
was  burning  within  the  closed  room. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    MISTRESS   OF   THE   HOUSE 

HERE  was  no  keyhole  through  which  I 
could  peer,  and  the  opening  above  the 
floor  was  the  merest  crack.  I  stood  with 
ear  pressed  against  the  panel,  fingers 
gripping  the  butt  of  my  revolver.  Not  a  movement 
within  could  be  distinguished.  What  might  be  the 
meaning  of  all  this1?  What  would  I  encounter  when 
I  dashed  that  door  open,  and  faced  the  occupant  of 
the  room?  Who  could  the  fellow  possibly  be"?  For 
what  purpose  should  he  shut  himself  up  here  alone*? 
Two  answers  to  this  last  query  occurred  to  me  —  he 
might  be  asleep;  or,  if  by  any  chance  this  had  been 
the  Major's  room,  he  might  be  busy  rifling  his  desk. 
But  there  was  no  rustle  of  papers,  no  movement  of 
any  kind.  I  stood  there  for  what  seemed  to  me  a 
long  while,  listening  vainly  for  any  sound  which 
would  indicate  life  within,  the  conviction  constantly 
growing  on  me  that  the,  man  slept.  An  ordinary 
latch  held  the  door  closed,  and  I  pressed  this,  open- 
ing the  barrier  slightly.  The  movement  made  not 
the  slightest  noise,  and  gave  me  a  glimpse  within. 

83 


84  The  Red  Mist 


A  narrow  bed,  unoccupied,  undisturbed,  its  coverlet 
white  and  unwrinkled,  stood  against  the  wall.  At 
the  foot  a  small  stand  held  a  few  books,  and  above 
this  hung  the  picture  of  a  gray-haired  woman.  This 
was  all  the  view  the  narrow  opening  revealed,  but 
served  to  render  me  even  more  cautious  —  the  occu- 
pant was  not  lying  down. 

Yet  I  could  not  stop  then ;  could  not  safely  retreat. 
Even  if  someone  sat  there,  hidden  from  view, 
patiently  waiting  to  gain  glimpse  of  me  to  kill,  I 
must  go  on  and  discover  the  truth.  My  revolver 
was  at  the  crack,  ready,  and  my  left  hand  slowly 
opened  the  door  wider.  Now  I  could  see  the  oppo- 
site wall,  and  the  space  between,  and  I  stood  there 
motionless,  breathless,  yet  feeling  my  very  flesh 
quiver  at  the  unexpected  revealment.  In  front  of  a 
small  grate  fire,  her  back  toward  me,  snuggled  com- 
fortably down  in  the  depths  of  an  easy  chair,  sat  a 
woman,  reading.  I  could  see  little  of  her  because  of 
the  high  back  of  the  chair  rising  between  us  —  only 
a  mass  of  dark  brown  hair,  a  smooth,  rounded  cheek, 
and  the  small  white  hand  resting  on  the  chair  arm. 
I  knew  vaguely  her  waist  was  white,  her  skirt  gray, 
and  I  saw  the  glimmer  of  a  pearl-handled  pistol 
lying  on  a  closed  chest  at  her  side.  Still  she  was 
only  a  woman,  a  mere  girl  apparently,  whom  I  had 
no  cause  to  fear.  The  sudden  reaction  caused  me  to 


0> 


-o 

c 


0> 

h 


The  Mistress  of  the  House  85 

smile  with  relief,  and  to  return  my  revolver  silently 
to  the  belt.  Her  eyes  remained  on  the  page  of  the 
book.  I  think  I  would  have  withdrawn  without  a 
word,  but,  at  that  instant,  a  draft  from  the  open 
door  flickered  her  light,  and  she  glanced  about  seek- 
ing the  cause.  I  caught  the  startled  expression  in  her 
eyes  as  she  first  perceived  my  shadow ;  the  book  fell 
to  the  floor,  her  hand  gripping  the  pistol,  even  as 
she  arose  hastily  to  her  feet.  The  light  was  on  her 
face,  and  I  knew  her  to  be  Noreen  Harwood. 

"  Who  are  you?  Why  are  you  here?  "  she  asked 
tersely,  a  tremor  in  the  voice,  but  no  shrinking  in 
those  eyes  that  looked  straight  at  me. 

I  moved  forward  from  out  of  the  shadow  into  the 
radius  of  light.  It  was  only  a  step,  but  the  girl 
recoiled  slightly,  the  pearl-handled  pistol  rising 
instantly  to  a  level  with  my  eyes. 

"  Stand  where  you  are !  "  she  ordered.  "  What 
are  you  doing,  creeping  about  this  house  in  the 
dark?  " 

"  Not  in  the  dark  exactly,"  I  answered,  seeking  to 
relieve  the  strain,  and  holding  my  hat  in  one  hand, 
as  I  bowed  gravely,  "  for  my  lamp  is  on  the  stairs." 

I  marked  the  quick  change  of  expression  in  her 
eyes  as  they  swept  over  me.  There  was  no  evidence  of 
recognition;  scarcely  more  than  a  faint  acknowledg- 
ment that  my  appearance  was  not  entirely  unfavor- 


86  The  Red  Mist 

able.  Yet  surely  that  alone  was  all  I  could  hope  for. 
Except  for  that  one  chance  encounter  on  the  road  we 
had  never  met  since  we  were  children,  and  she  would 
not  likely  associate  the  son  of  Judge  Wyatt  with 
the  man  now  confronting  her,  attired  in  the  wet  and 
muddy  uniform  of  a  Federal  Lieutenant.  Indeed  it 
was  better  she  should  not;  and  a  feeling  of  relief 
swept  over  me  as  I  realized  her  failure  to  connect  me 
with  the  past.  No  memory  of  my  features  found 
expression  in  her  face,  as  her  eyes  fell  from  mine  to 
the  clothes  I  wore. 

"  You  are  Union?  an  officer  of  —  of  cavalry?  I 
—  I  can  scarcely  comprehend  why  you  should  be 
here."  Her  attitude  no  longer  threatening,  the 
gleaming  pistol  lowered.  "  There  are  Federal  troops 
at  Lewisburg,  but  —  but  I  do  not  recall  your  face." 

"  My  being  here  is  wholly  an  accident,"  I  ex- 
plained quietly.  "  I  supposed  the  house  deserted, 
and  sought  entrance  to  get  away  from  the  storm. 
There  was  a  broken  window  —  " 

"  Yes,"  she  interrupted,  her  eyes  again  on  mine 
questioningly.  "  I  found  that  when  I  came ;  some- 
one had  broken  in." 

"  Robbery,  no  doubt." 

"  I  am  not  sure  as  to  that.  I  have  found  nothing 
of  any  value  missing.  Indeed  we  left  nothing  here 
to  attract  vandals."  She  hesitated,  as  though  doubt- 


The  Mistress  of  the  House  87 

ful  of  the  propriety  of  further  explanation  to  a 
stranger.  "I  —  I  belong  here,"  she  added  simply. 
"  This  is  my  home." 

"  Yes;  I  supposed  as  much;  you  are  Miss  Noreen 
Harwood  ?" 

Her  blue  eyes  widened,  her  hand  grasping  more 
tightly  the  back  of  the  chair. 

"  Yes,"  she  admitted.  "  You  knew  my  father?  " 

"Slightly;  enough  to  be  aware  of  the  existence 
of  his  daughter,  and  that  this  was  his  plantation." 

"  Then  you  must  be  connected  with  the  garrison 
at  Charleston?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Harwood;  I  belong  to  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  and  am  here  only  on  recruiting  service. 
A  word  of  explanation  will  make  the  situation  clear, 
and  I  trust  may  serve  to  win  your  confidence.  I  do 
not  have  the  appearance  of  a  villain,  do  I*?  " 

"  No,  or  I  should  not  remain  parleying  with  you," 
she  responded  gravely.  "  The  war  has  taught  even 
the  women  of  this  section  the  lesson  of  self-protec- 
tion. I  am  not  at  all  afraid,  or  I  should  not  be  here 
alone." 

"  It  surprises  me,  however,  that  Major  Harwood 
should  consent  to  your  remaining  —  " 

"  He  has  not  consented,"  she  interrupted.  "  I 
am  supposed  to  be  safely  lodged  with  friends  in 
Lewisburg,  but  rode  out  here  this  afternoon  to  see 


88  The  Red  Mist 

the  condition  of  our  property.  Word  came  to  me 
that  the  house  had  been  entered.  The  servants  have 
all  gone,  and  we  were  obliged  to  leave  it  unoccupied. 
I  was  delayed,  seeking  to  discover  what  damage  the 
vandals  had  done,  and  then  suddenly  the  storm 
broke,  and  I  thought  it  better  to  remain  until  morn- 
ing." 

She  laughed,  as  though  amused  at  her  own  frank- 
ness of  speech. 

"  There,  I  have  told  you  all  my  story,  without 
even  waiting  to  hear  yours.  'Tis  a  woman's  way,  if 
her  impulse  be  sufficiently  strong." 

"  You  mean  faith  in  the  other  party*?  " 

"Of  course;  one  cannot  be  conventional  in  war- 
times, and  there  is  no  one  here  to  properly  introduce 
us,  even  if  that  formality  was  desired.  So  I  must 
accept  you  on  trust." 

"  My  uniform  alone  should  be  sufficient  guar- 
antee." 

She  laughed ;  her  eyes  sparkling. 

"  Well  hardly.  I  imagine  you  fail  to  compre- 
hend its  really  disreputable  condition.  No  doubt, 
sir,  it  was  at  one  time  a  thing  of  beauty,  for  I  can- 
not justly  criticise  the  rather  fashionable  cut,  or  the 
quality  of  cloth,  but  it  has  evidently  passed  through 
both  stress  and  weather.  No,"  shaking  her  head 
solemnly,  yet  with  frank  good  humor  in  her  eyes, 


The  Mistress  of  the  House  89 

"  the  uniform  is  no  recommendation  whatever,  and 
but  —  well,  you  —  you  look  like  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman." 

"  For  which  compliment  I  sincerely  thank  you. 
That  is  far  better  than  a  dependence  on  clothes 
alone,  yet  never  before  did  I  feel  that  my  face  was 
my  fortune.  However,  Miss  Harwood,  my  story 
can  be  quickly  told.  I  am  a  lieutenant,  Third 
United  States  Cavalry  —  see,  the  numeral  is  on  my 
hat  —  attached  to  Heitzelman's  command,  now  at 
Fairfax  Court  House.  I  have  recently  been  de- 
tailed to  the  recruiting  service,  and  ordered  to  this 
section.  If  necessary  to  convince  you  of  my  identity 
you  may  even  examine  the  official  papers  in  this 
packet." 

She  shook  her  head,  her  glance  straying  from  the 
official  buff  envelope  back  to  my  face.  The  look 
in  her  eyes  was  expressive  of  some  slight  bewilder- 
ment. 

"  No;  that  is  not  necessary.  I  believe  your  word." 

I  found  it  strangely  difficult,  fronting  her  calm 
look  of  insistence,  to  go  on.  But  there  was  no  way 
of  escape.  Beyond  doubt  the  sympathy  of  thi£  girl 
was  with  the  cause  of  the  North,  and  if  I  was  to 
confess  myself  Tom  Wyatt,  and  a  Confederate  spy, 
all  hope  of  the  success  of  my  mission  would  be  im- 
mediately ended.  Besides  I  lacked  the  will  to  forfeit 


90  The  Red  Mist 


her  esteem  —  to  permit  her  confidence  in  me  to 
become  changed  into  suspicion. 

"  Then  I  will  go  on,"  I  said  more  slowly,  endeav- 
oring better  to  arrange  my  story.  "  I  picked  up  a 
guide  at  Fayette,  but  the  officer  in  command  there 
could  spare  no  escort.  The  man  who  went  with  me 
must  have  been  a  traitor,  for  he  guided  me  south 
into  the  Green  Briar  Mountains.  Last  night  at  dusk 
we  rode  into  a  camp  of  guerrillas." 

"Who  commanded  them?     Did  you  learn?" 

"  A  gray-headed,  seamed-faced  mountaineer,  they 
called  Cowan." 

She  emitted  a  quick  breath,  between  closely 
pressed  lips. 

"  You  know  the  man?  "  I  asked. 

"Yes;  old  Ned  Cowan;  he  lived  over  yonder, 
east  of  here  in  the  foot-hills.  He  and  — *-  and  my 
father  had  some  trouble  before  the  war.  He  —  he 
is  vindictive  and  dangerous."  She  stopped,  her 
glance  sweeping  about  the  room.  "I  —  I  have 
some  reason  to  suspect,"  she  added,  as  if  half  doubt- 
ing whether  she  ought  to  speak  the  word,  "  that 
either  he,  or  one  of  his  men,  broke  in  here." 

"  In  search  of  something?  " 

"A  paper;  yes  —  a  deed.  Of  course  I  may  be 
mistaken;  only  it  is  not  to  be  found.  The  desk  in 
the  library  was  rifled,  and  its  contents  scattered  over 


The  Mistress  of  the  House  91 

the  floor  when  I  came.  I  put  them  back  in  place, 
but  found  nothing  of  value  among  those  that  re- 
mained. My  father  must  have  removed  those  of 
importance. 

"  Possibly  he  carried  them  with  him?  " 

She  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand,  her  eyes  thought- 
ful. 

"  I  think  he  once  told  me  they  were  left  in  charge 
of  a  banker  at  Charleston  —  an  old  friend.  It  would 
be  too  dangerous  to  carry  them  about  with  him  in 
the  field.  You  see  I  do  not  know  very  much  about 
his  affairs,"  she  explained.  "  I  was  away  at  school 
when  the  war  broke  out,  and  we  have  only  met 
briefly  since.  My  father  did  not  talk  freely  of  his 
personal  matters  even  to  me.  I  learned  of  his  feud 
with  Cowan  by  accident." 

"It  was  a  feud  then?" 

"  On  one  side  at  least.  My  father  was  shot  at, 
and  several  of  our  outhouses  burned.  The  trouble 
arose  over  the  title  to  property.  Cowan,"  she  ex- 
plained, "  was  a  squatter  on  land  which  had  be- 
longed to  our  family  ever  since  my  grandfather  first 
settled  here.  We  had  title  from  Virginia,  but  the 
tract  granted  had  never  been  properly  surveyed.  My 
father  had  it  done,  and  discovered  that  Ned  Cowan 
and  two  of  his  sons  occupied  a  part  of  our  land 
with  no  legal  right." 


92  The  Red  Mist 

Her  eyes  uplifted  to  my  face,  and  then  fell  again, 
one  hand  opening  and  closing  on  the  back  of  the 
chair.  She  laughed  pleasantly. 

"  I  hardly  know  why  I  am  telling  you  all  this 
family  history,"  she  continued  almost  in  apology. 
"  It  is  as  if  I  talked  to  an  old  friend  who  was  nat- 
urally interested  in  our  affairs." 

"  I  am  interested,  although  I  can  scarcely  claim 
the  distinction  of  old  friend." 

"  Really.  I  supposed  your  attitude  was  that  of 
mere  politeness.  But  I  may  as  well  go  on  now,  al- 
though I  am  not  at  all  inclined  to  confide  so  sud- 
denly in  a  stranger.  People,  I  believe,  usually  find 
me  rather  secretive." 

"  Perhaps  the  manner  of  our  meeting  accounts 
for  the  change,"  I  ventured.  "  But  truly  I  am  more 
deeply  interested  than  you  imagine.  It  may  prove 
of  mutual  advantage  for  me  to  know  the  facts.  Did 
Major  Harwood  try  to  force  them  from  his  land?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  hastily,  "  my  father  had  no  such 
thought.  He  tried  to  help  them  to  purchase  the 
property  at  a  very  small  price,  and  on  long  time.  His 
intention  was  to  aid  them,  but  he  found  himself 
unable  to  convince  either  father  or  sons  of  his  real 
purpose.  They  either  could  not,  or  would  not,  un- 
derstand. Do  you  realize  the  reckless,  lawless  nature 
of  these  mountain  men?  " 


The  Mistress  of  the  House  93 

"  Yes,  to  some  extent;  they  trust  no  one." 

"  That  was  the  whole  trouble.  Seemingly  they 
possessed  but  one  idea  —  that  if  my  father  was 
killed  they  could  remain  where  they  were  indefi- 
nitely. Their  single  instinct  was  to  fight  it  out  with 
rifles.  They  refused  to  either  purchase  or  leave. 

There  was  silence,  as  though  she  had  finished,  and 
I  was  endeavoring  to  connect  this  revelation  of  af- 
fairs, in  my  own  mind,  with  the  known  occurrences 
of  the  past  few  days.  She  had  seated  herself  on  the 
wide  arm  of  the  chair,  still  facing  me,  and  I  could 
hear  the  rain  beating  hard  against  the  side  of  the 
house.  Suddenly  she  looked  up  into  my  face. 

"  How  odd  that  I  should  talk  to  you  so  freely," 
she  exclaimed.  "  Why  I  do  not  even  know  your 
name." 

"  It  was  written  in  the  papers." 

"  But  I  did  not  look  —  what  is  it,  please*?  " 

"  Charles  H.  Raymond." 

I  could  not  be  certain  that  the  expression  of  her 
eyes  changed,  for  they  suddenly  looked  away  from 
me,  and  she  stood  again  upon  her  feet. 

"  Raymond,  you  say !  "  the  slightest  hardening  of 
tone  apparent,  "  on  recruiting  service  from  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac*?  "  She  drew  a  quick  breath.  "I  — 
I  think  I  have  heard  the  name  before.  Would  you 
mind  if  I  did  ask  to  see  your  orders'?  " 


94  The  Red  Mist 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  I  answered,  not  wholly  sur- 
prised that  she  should  have  heard  of  the  other,  and 
confident  the  papers  I  bore  would  be  properly  exe- 
cuted. "  I  prefer  that  you  have  no  doubt  as  to  my 
identity." 

She  took  them,  and  I  noted  a  slight  trembling  of 
her  hands  as  she  held  the  paper  open  in  her  fingers, 
her  eyes  glancing  swiftly  down  the  written  lines. 
She  had  doubtless  heard  of  this  Raymond,  some 
rumor  of  his  coming  —  perhaps  Fox  had  mentioned 
it  as  he  rode  through  Lewisburg  on  the  way  east. 
It  was  merely  curiosity  that  caused  a  desire  to  peruse 
the  papers,  a  mere  wish  to  thoroughly  satisfy  herself. 
Her  eyes  were  clear  of  suspicion  as  they  glanced  at 
me  over  the  paper 

"  I  have  become  quite  a  soldier  of  late,"  she 
said,  and  handed  the  package  back  to  me.  "  And  I 
cannot  doubt  your  credentials.  I  am  very  glad  to 
meet  you,  Lieutenant  Raymond,"  and  she  held  out 
her  hand  cordially.  "  As  I  have  admitted  already, 
I  am  Noreen  Harwood." 

"  Whom  I  shall  only  be  delighted  to  serve  in  any 
manner  possible,"  I  replied  gallantly,  relieved  that 
she  was  so  easily  convinced. 

"  Oh,  I  think  the  service  is  more  likely  to  be  mine. 
You  confessed  you  broke  in  here  seeking  after  food 
and  a  fire.  Down  below  we  may  find  both,  and  it 


The  Mistress  of  the  House  95 

will  be  my  pleasure  thus  to  serve  a  Federal  officer. 
You  have  a  lamp  without*?  " 

"On  the  stairs?" 

She  led  the  way  like  a  mistress  in  her  own  home, 
and  I  followed.  There  was  a  force  of  character 
about  the  girl  not  to  be  ignored.  She  chose  to  treat 
me  as  a  guest,  uninvited,  but  none  the  less  welcome, 
a  position  I  was  not  reluctant  to  accept.  I  held 
the  lamp  as  we  went  down  the  stairs  together,  the 
rays  of  light  pressing  aside  the  curtain  of  darkness. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ARRIVAL  OF  PARSON  NICHOLS 


HE  put  aside  laughingly  my  suggestion 
of  assistance.     Indeed  her  appearance  of 
good  humor  caused  me  to  feel  that  the 
girl  was  really  glad  of  my  presence  in 
the  house,  this  relieving  her  of  loneliness. 

"  Not  a  word  of  protest,"  she  said  gaily,  waving 
me  to  the  chair  beside  the  table.  "  You  must  re- 
member I  am  mistress  here,  and  the  entertainment 
of  guests  is  my  privilege." 

"  Hardly  a  guest,  when  I  came  steathily  crawling 
in  through  a  broken  window." 

"  The  only  entrance  possible.  That  is  all  forgot- 
ten, now  that  your  eminent  respectability  has  been 
so  thoroughly  established.  Really,  Lieutenant,  I 
cannot  but  feel  honored  by  so  distinguished  a  vis- 
itor. General  Ramsay  said  you  were  one  of  the 
most  popular  officers  in  the  army." 

"  Did  he,  indeed1?  It  was  from  Ramsay  then  you 
learned  of  my  coming." 

"  Captain  Fox  told  me  what  General  Ramsay 
said;  there  is  quite  a  grapevine  telegraph  in  this 
country  —  news  travels  rapidly.  I  was  even  in- 

96 


Arrival  of  Parson  Nichols  97 

formed  that  you  were  the  champion  revolver  shot 
of  your  division.  To  such  distinction  I  can  only  bow 
in  reverence." 

She  swept  me  a  low  curtsey,  her  laughing  eyes 
smiling  in  the  lamp  light.  Before  I  answered,  the 
fire  in  the  grate  burst  into  blaze,  and  her  hands  were 
busily  rearranging  the  table. 

"  With  no  servants  left,  and  the  house  unoccu- 
pied for  months,"  she  explained,  "  I  shall  have  to 
give  you  soldier  fare,  and,  perhaps,  not  very  much  of 
that.  Someone  has  made  free  of  our  larder  since 
we  left,  from  all  appearances  the  same  gentleman 
who  broke  in  through  the  window,  no  doubt  —  and 
I  discovered  little  remaining  even  for  myself.  But 
such  as  it  is  I  give  it  to  you.  Pardon  my  not  join- 
ing in  the  feast,  as  I  have  only  just  eaten." 

She  drew  up  a  chair  opposite  to  where  I  sat,  sup- 
porting her  chin  in  her  hands.  The  light  beween  us 
illumined  her  face,  outlining  it  clearly  against  the 
gloom  of  the  wall  behind.  It  was  a  young  face,  al- 
most girlish  in  a  way,  although  there  was  a  grave, 
strong  look  to  the  eyes,  and  womanly  firmness  about 
lips  and  chin.  I  had  seen  so  little  of  her  in  the  days 
gone  by  as  scarcely  to  retain  in  memory  a  detail  of 
her  face;  she  had  been  to  me  but  a  swiftly  flashing 
vision,  the  merest  recollection  of  bright  eyes,  and 
loosened  hair  flying  in  the  wind.  And  here  I  found 


98  The  Red  Mist 

her  a  woman  —  a  woman  with  all  a  girl's  slender- 
ness  of  form,  and  unconventionality  of  manner,  yet 
capable  and  thoughtful,  her  mind  clear,  and  loyal 
to  her  ideals  —  a  woman  of  charm,  of  rare  beauty 
even ;  sweet  and  wholesome  in  look,  her  cheeks  aglow 
with  health,  her  eyes  deep  wells  of  mystery  and 
promise.  I  felt  something  choke  in  my  throat  as  I 
glanced  at  her  —  a  regret  that  I  had  lied,  that 
I  had  deceived.  Yet  I  saw  no  way  in  which  I  could 
escape  my  unfortunate  predicament.  I  had  taken 
the  false  step,  and  my  duty  to  my  service,  my  loyalty 
to  Jackson,  to  Lee,  to  my  comrades  of  the  South, 
forbade  any  disclosure  of  my  mission.  The  sym- 
pathy of  the  girl  was  unquestionably  with  the  North- 
ern Army;  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  that;  her 
father  wore  Federal  uniform,  and  had  given  up  all 
for  the  cause.  Her  father !  why  I  dare  not  even  tell 
her  of  his  death,  of  his  dastardly  murder.  My  lips 
were  now  completely  sealed  to  the  truth,  because  any 
attempt  to  explain  would  swiftly  arouse  her  suspi- 
cion. Indeed  it  was  strange  she  had  not  recognized 
me,  although  I  realized  to  some  extent,  the  change 
in  my  personal  appearance  since  our  last  encounter 
—  the  uniform,  the  short,  soldierly  cut  of  my  hair, 
the  marks  which  exposure  and  peril  had  left  on  my 
features.  Yet  probably  the  real  truth  was  that  she 
had  never  before  observed  me  with  any  care  or 


Arrival  of  Parson  Nichols  99 

interest  —  considering  me  a  mere  boy  to  be  laughed 
at  and  forgotten.  Nothing  about  me  at  present 
served  to  even  remind  her  of  what  I  had  once  been. 
I  was  only  a  stranger  entering  into  her  life  for  the 
first  time.  This  expression  was  in  the  eyes  survey- 
ing me  as  I  ate  —  quiet,  earnest  eyes,  utterly  devoid 
of  suspicion.  I  was  so  busy  with  these  thoughts  that 
she  broke  the  silence. 

"  You  are  a  very  young  man,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Not  seriously  so,"  I  answered,  rather  inclined  to 
resent  the  charge.  "  I  am  twenty-four." 

"  Really!  Why  that  is  not  so  bad.  How  old  am 
I?" 

I  could  have  told  her  to  the  day,  but  chose  to 
venture  a  guess. 

"  Seventeen." 

"  A  year  and  a  half  too  young.  You  are  no  bet- 
ter guesser  than  I  am.  You  look  like  a  boy  I  used 
to  know  —  only  his  eyes  were  darker,  and  he  had 
long  hair." 

"  Indeed !  "  I  caught  my  breath  quickly,  yet 
held  my  eyes  firm.  "  Someone  living  about  here"?  " 

"Yes;  his  name  was  Wyatt.  I  never  knew  him 
very  well,  only  you  recalled  him  to  memory  in  some 
way.  He  and  his  mother  went  South  when  the  war 
first  broke  out.  Where  was  your  home?  " 

"  In  Burlington,  Vermont." 


100  The  Red  Mist 

"  You  are  a  regular  soldier*?  " 

"  I  was  a  junior  at  West  Point  last  year;  we  were 
graduated  ahead  of  our  class." 

Her  eyes  fell,  the  lashes  outlined  on  her  cheeks, 
her  hands  clasped  on  the  table. 

"Isn't  that  odd!"  she  said  quietly.  "Do  you 
know  Mme.  HactelPs  school  for  young  ladies  at 
Compton  on  the  Hudson1?  That  is  where  papa  sent 
me,  and  I  was  at  the  senior  hop  at  West  Point  a  year 
ago  last  June.  A  half  dozen  of  us  girls  went  up; 
Fred  Carlton,  of  Charleston,  was  in  that  class,  and 
he  invited  me.  You  knew  him,  of  course1?  " 

My  lips  were  dry,  but  I  nodded,  half  fearful  I 
might  be  slipping  into  some  trap,  although  her  words 
and  manner  were  surely  innocent  enough. 

"  We  were  acquaintances,  not  friends,"  I  replied, 
hoping  the  retort  might  cause  her  to  change  the  sub- 
ject. 

"  Most  of  the  boys  seemed  to  like  him.  He  was 
very  pleasant  to  me,  and  I  had  a  splendid  time.  I 
met  one  cadet  named  Raymond;  he  had  dark  hair 
and  eyes." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  managed  to  answer,  now  desperately 
alert.  "  There  was  another  in  the  class  —  James  R., 
I  believe." 

"  I  did  not  learn  his  first  name,  but  when  I  heard 
that  a  Lieutenant  Raymond  was  coming  here,  I 


Arrival  of  Parson  Nichols  101 

hoped  it  might  be  he.  That  was  why  I  was  so  deeply 
interested.  It  is  not  such  a  common  name,  you 
know." 

I  made  some  answer,  and  she  sat  there  silently,  her 
face  turned  now  toward  the  fire  in  the  grate.  The 
profile  held  me  in  fascination,  as  I  wondered  what 
these  seemingly  innocent  questions  could  signify. 
Were  they  innocently  asked"?  or  did  the  girl  secretly 
suspect  my  identity,  and  my  purpose1?  If  she  had 
recognized  me  as  Tom  Wyatt,  and  was  pretending 
not,  merely  to  learn  my  object,  then  surely  she  had 
already  proven  herself  a  remarkable  actress.  No 
expression  of  eye,  or  voice,  led  me  to  believe  this. 
The  questions  were,  indeed,  natural  enough  —  the 
only  strange  feature  the  coincident  of  her  previous 
brief  acquaintance  with  the  man  whom  I  had  reck- 
lessly chosen  to  impersonate.  Anyhow,  let  the  truth 
be  what  it  may,  there  was  no  other  course  left  for 
me,  but  to  keep  on  with  the  deception.  I  was  in  the 
heart  of  the  enemy's  country,  in  disguise,  my  life 
forfeit  in  case  of  discovery,  and  the  time  had  not 
come  when  I  could  entrust  her  with  so  dangerous  a 
secret. 

*  - 

The  wind  rattled  the  blinds,  and  the  rain  beat 
heavily  against  the  side  of  the  house.  The  thought 
of  venturing  out  into  the  storm,  not  knowing  where 
I  could  seek  shelter,  was  not  an  alluring  one.  Nor 


102  The  Red  Mist 

had  I  any  excuse  to  urge  for  immediate  departure; 
indeed  as  a  gentleman  and  soldier  my  duty  called  me 
to  remain  for  her  protection.  She  could  not  be  left 
alone  in  this  desolate  house.  These  thoughts  flitted 
through  my  mind,  as  my  eyes  studied  her  face,  but 
the  final  decision  was  made  for  me.  I  had  heard  no 
sound  other  than  that  of  the  storm  without,  and  the 
crackling  of  flames  within.  We  seemed  alone,  iso- 
lated, utterly  beyond  the  zone  of  danger.  That 
others  might  be  abroad  on  such  a  night  never  oc- 
curred to  me.  It  was  rather  my  steady  gaze  that 
roused  the  lady  from  whatever  dream  the  flames  of 
the  grate  had  given  her.  She  turned  her  head  to 
meet  my  eyes  —  then  sat  suddenly  erect,  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face  instantly  changing,  as  she  stared 
beyond  me  at  the  open  door.  I  wheeled  about  to 
look,  startled  at  the  movement.  A  man  stood  in  the 
doorway,  water  streaming  from  his  clothes  onto  the 
floor.  I  was  on  my  feet  instantly,  a  hand  gripping 
my  revolver,  but  before  I  could  whip  it  from  the 
leather  sheave,  the  girl  had  taken  the  single  step  for- 
ward, and  grasped  my  sleeve. 

"  Do  not  fire !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  He  is  not  a 
fighting  man." 

The  fellow  lifted  one  arm,  and  stepped  forward 
full  into  the  light.  He  was  a  man  of  years,  unarmed, 
a  tall,  ungainly  figure,  a  scraggly  beard  at  his  chin, 


Arrival  of  Parson  Nichols  103 

and  a  face  like  parchment.    His  eyes  were  two  deep 
wells,  solemn  and  unwinking. 

"  Peace  to  you  both!  "  he  said  gravely.  "  I  ask 
naught  save  fire  and  shelter." 

"  To  these  you  are  welcome,"  the  girl  answered, 
still  clinging  to  my  arm.  "  You  travel  alone?  " 

"  Even  as  my  master  in  rags  and  poverty,  having 
no  place  wherein  to  lay  my  head.  The  foxes  have 
holes,  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests  —  you  know 
me,  young  woman*?  " 

"Yes;  you  are  Parson  Nichols." 

"  An  unworthy  soldier  of  the  Cross.  I  address 
the  daughter  of  Major  Harwood  —  and  this  young 
man?  " 

"  Lieutenant  Raymond,  of  the  Federal  Army," 
she  explained  simply.  "  He  sought  refuge  here  from 
the  storm." 

The  man's  eyes  searched  my  face,  but  without  cor- 
diality, without  expression  of  any  kind.  Deliber- 
ately he  removed  his  long,  water  soaked  cloak,  and 
flung  it  over  the  back  of  a  chair,  placing  his  hat  on 
top.  His  undergarments  were  dry  enough,  butternut 
jeans,  and  he  wore  high  boots,  splashed  with  mud. 
His  head,  the  hair  upon  it  thin  and  gray,  rose  into 
a  peculiar  pear-shaped  peak,  but  his  temples  were 
broad  and  prominent.  Saying  nothing  he  crossed  to 
the  fireplace,  and  held  out  his  hands  to  the  warmth 


104  The  Red  Mist 


of  the  blaze.  The  girl's  eyes  met  mine  almost 
questioningly. 

"  You  know  him*?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Who  he  is  —  yes;  a  Baptist  mountain  preacher. 
But  why  is  he  here*?  what  purpose  brings  him*?  " 

"  An  accident,  no  doubt;  overtaken  by  the  storm." 

She  shook  her  head,  unconvinced.  Then  she 
stepped  forward. 

"  We  were  just  completing  our  meal,"  she  said 
softly.  "  There  is  not  much,  but  we  will  gladly 
share  what  we  have." 

"  The  flesh  needeth  nothing,"  he  answered,  not 
even  looking  around,  "  and  the  spirit  liveth  on  the 
bread  of  life.  I  seek  only  converse  with  you.  The 
young  man  is  an  officer*?  " 

"  Yes  —  on  recruiting  service." 

"  You  know  him  well?  you  trust  him?  " 

"I  —  I  have  not  known  him  long,"  she  replied 
hesitatingly,  and  glancing  back  at  me.  "  Yet  I  have 
confidence  in  him."  The  man  did  not  answer,  or 
move,  and,  after  a  moment  of  silence,  she  asked : 

"  Have  you  ridden  far?  " 

"  From  Lewisburg." 

"  Lewisburg !  "  in  surprise.  "  Then  you  knew  I 
was  here?  you  came  seeking  me?  " 

He  turned  on  his  stool,  his  eyes  searching  her  face 
gravely. 


Arrival  of  Parson  Nichols  105 

"  On  a  mission  of  my  ministry,"  he  replied  sol- 
emnly, "  although  whether  it  prove  of  joy,  or  sor- 
row, I  am  unable  to  say.  I  am  but  an  instrument." 

The  man's  reluctance  to  speak  freely  was  appar- 
ent, and  I  stepped  forward. 

"  If  you  prefer  conversing  with  Miss  Harwood 
alone,"  I  said  quietly,  "  I  will  retire." 

"  The  words  I  would  speak  are  indeed  of  a  confi- 
dential nature  —  " 

"  No,  no !  "  she  broke  in  impulsively,  her  eyes  of 
appeal  turned  toward  me.  "  Do  not  leave  us,  Lieu- 
tenant. This  man  has  nothing  to  say  I  am  afraid 
to  have  you  hear.  He  has  not  come  here  as  a  friend ; 
there  is  some  evil  purpose  in  all  this,  which  I  cannot 
fathom."  She  faced  him  now,  her  slender  body 
poised,  her  eyes  on  his.  "  Tell  me  what  it  is  —  this 
mysterious  mission?  Ay!  and  who  sent  you  to  find 
me?  I  will  not  believe  it  was  my  father." 

The  minister  rose  to  his  feet,  a  tall,  ungainly 
figure,  his  solemn  face  as  expressionless  as  before, 
but  a  smouldering  resentment  was  in  his  deep-set 
eyes.  He  possessed  the  look  of  a  fanatic,  one  who 
would  hesitate  at  nothing  to  gain  his  end.  To  me 
he  was  even  repulsive  in  his  narrow  bigotry. 

"  No,  it  was  not  your  father,"  he  said  almost 
coarsely,  "  but  it  is  a  part  of  my  mission  to  bring  to 
you,  young  woman,  the  news  of  your  father's  death." 


106  The  Red  Mist 

"  Death*?  My  father  dead"?  "  she  stepped  back 
from  him,  her  hands  pressed  against  her  eyes.  Obey- 
ing the  first  instinct  of  protection,  I  stepped  to  sup- 
port her  as  she  seemed  about  to  fall.  "  That  cannot 
be !  You  lie !  I  know  you  lie !  You  were  never  his 
friend.  You  come  here  to  tell  me  that  to  frighten 
me;  to  compel  me  to  do  something  wrong." 

The  man  exhibited  no  trace  of  emotion,  no  evi- 
dence of  regret,  his  voice  the  same  hard,  metallic 
sound. 

"  I  expected  this  outburst,"  he  continued  un- 
moved. "  Indeed,  it  is  no  more  than  natural.  I  am 
the  Lord's  servant,  and  must  expect  abuse  and  revil- 
ing from  the  unconverted;  yet  will  I  not  be  swerved 
from  the  line  of  duty.  It  is  true  that  the  Major  and 
I  differed  in  many  things  —  he  was  of  the  world 
worldly,  while  the  light  which  guideth  my  path  is 
spiritual.  But  I  harbor  no  resentment,  and  in  this 
hour  freely  forgive  all.  '  He  that  taketh  the  sword, 
shall  perish  by  the  sword,'  and  my  words  are  true." 

"  But  I  saw  him  four  days  ago." 

"  On  his  way  east  to  Hot  Springs,  with  an  escort 
of  soldiers.  It  was  there  he  was  killed,  together 
with  his  servant.  A  messenger  brought  the  news." 

"  A  soldier4?    One  of  Captain  Fox's  men?  " 

A  sardonic  smile  flickered  an  instant  on  the  preach- 
er's thin  lips. 


Arrival  of  Parson  Nichols  107 

"No,  but  equally  reliable;  one  of  Ned  Cowan's 
mountaineers.  Captain  Fox  is  a  prisoner,  wounded, 
and  his  men  mostly  dead." 

A  moment  she  rested  unknowingly  against  my 
arm,  her  face  covered  with  her  hands.  There  was 
that  in  the  man's  words  and  manner  which  convinced 
her  that  he  spoke  the  truth.  Nor  could  I  strengthen 
her  by  any  denial,  comfort  her  by  any  expression  of 
hope.  There  was  not  a  sob,  not  a  sound  to  indicate 
suffering,  but  the  face  she  finally  lifted  so  that  the 
light  again  fell  upon  it  was  white  and  drawn.  The 
girl  had  changed  to  a  woman.  She  stood  erect, 
alone,  one  hand  grasping  the  back  of  a  chair. 

"  You  say  my  father  is  dead  —  killed,"  she  said, 
in  steady,  clear  voice,  "  and  that  Captain  Fox  is 
wounded,  and  a  prisoner.  You  tell  me  this  on  the 
report  of  one  of  Ned  Cowan's  men.  It  may  be  true, 
or  it  may  be  a  lie,  concocted  to  frighten  me.  But  be 
that  one  way  or  the  other,  you  never  came  here 
tonight,  through  this  storm,  to  bring  me  such  a 
message  alone.  Who  sent  you,  Parson  Nichols? 
What  deviltry  is  on  foot*? " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  he  began  smoothly, 
spreading  his  hands  deprecatingly.  "  Be  charitable, 
and  just.  I  realize  that  in  the  first  shock  of  thus 
suddenly  learning  of  your  father's  demise,  you  nat- 
urally speak  harshly.  With  me  the  past  is  forgot- 


108  The  Red  Mist 


ten,  blotted  out,  covered  with  the  mantle  of  Chris- 
tian charity.  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  break  to  you  this 
sad  news  in  all  possible  tenderness." 

"  And  you  had  no  other  object"?  " 

"  Certainly  not;  what  other  could  I  possibly  have 
had?" 

The  man  lied,  and  I  knew  it;  the  suave,  soft 
tones  of  his  voice  irritated  me.  That  he  was  a  sneak- 
ing, canting  hypocrite  I  realized  from  the  first  glance, 
and  my  fingers  itched  to  grip  him  by  the  throat,  and 
wring  the  real  truth  out  of  him.  The  girl  stood  mo- 
tionless, silent,  her  breath  coming  in  sobs.  Then 
she  turned  her  head  slightly,  and  her  eyes  met  mine. 
The  piteous  appeal  in  their  depths  was  all  I  needed. 
With  a  grim  feeling  of  delight,  I  took  a  step  for- 
ward, and  the  muzzle  of  my  revolver  touched  his 
breast. 

"  Now,  Mister  Preacherman,"  I  said  shortly, 
"  we'll  have  done  with  this  play-acting.  Not  a 
move!  I  understand  firearms.  It  is  a  soldier,  not 
a  girl,  you  are  dealing  with  now." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  JAWS  OF  THE  TRAP 

F  EYES  alone  possessed  the  power  to  kill, 
his  would  have  done  the  deed,  but  the 
face  with  which  I  confronted  him  was 
sufficiently  grim  to  make  him  realize 
the  danger  of  a  movement.  He  gave  back  a  step, 
but  my  revolver  pressed  his  side. 

"  Listen  to  me  first,"  I  continued,  "  and  be  care- 
ful how  you  answer.  I  may  know  more  of  this  affair 
than  you  imagine,  and  I  am  not  tolerant  of  lies. 
You  came  here  tonight  expecting  to  find  Miss  Har- 
wood  alone  in  this  house.  You  were  told  she  was 
here,  and  instructed  to  come.  There  was  an  object 
in  your  visit  —  a  special  purpose,  in  which  others 
were  also  interested.  You  did  not  expect  to  have 
to  deal  with  anyone  but  a  young,  unprotected  girl. 
You  were  so  certain  of  this  that  you  are  not  even 
armed.  You  came  in  advance  of  others,  and  under 
orders,  but,  finding  me  here,  you  dared  not  openly 
avow  your  real  object.  That  is  the  truth,  is  it  not?  " 
He  made  no  reply,  his  lips  tightly  closed,  his 
deep-set  eyes  scarcely  visible. 

109 


110  The  Red  Mist 


"  Don't  try  obstinancy  with  me,  Nichols,"  I  said 
sternly,  "  for  you  are  either  going  to  talk,  or  die. 
I'll  give  you  one  chance,  and  one  only.  I  despise 
your  kind,  and  will  kill  you  with  pleasure.  Now 
answer  me  —  who  told  you  of  Major  Har wood's 
death?" 

"  I  have  said  already ;  the  message  was  brought  to 
Lewisburg  by  one  of  Ned  Cowan's  men." 

"Yes,  so  you  did;  but  you  never  received  it  at 
Lewisburg.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  something  myself.  The 
fact  is  you  never  came  here  tonight  from  Lewisburg, 
now  did  you?  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  where 
you  came  from?  Well,  it  was  the  mountains  the 
other  side  of  the  Green  Briar  —  from  old  Ned  Cow- 
an's camp.  There  is  where  you  learned  of  Har- 
wood's  death,  and  of  the  attack  on  Fox.  Now  are 
you  ready  to  talk  to  me?  Oh !  you  are !  Very  well, 
who  sent  you  —  Cowan?  " 

I  ran  my  gun  muzzle  hard  into  his  ribs,  and  he 
nodded  sullenly,  his  lips  drawn  back  in  a  snarl.  All 
the  soft  palaver  had  vanished,  and  he  had  become 
a  cowed  brute. 

"  I  thought  so;  you  belong  yourself  to  the  Cowan 
gang?" 

"  Not  —  not  in  their  deeds  of  blood  and  vio- 
lence," he  protested.  "  The  calls  of  my  church  com- 
pel me  to  minister  to  my  scattered  flock  —  " 


The  Jaws  of  the  Trap  111 

"  Never  mind  that  kind  of  palaver,  Nichols.  The 
fact  that  you  were  with  that  old  devil,  and  that  he 
sent  you  here,  is  all  I  wanted  to  learn.  Now  what 
did  he  send  you  for"?  " 

I  waited,  my  eyes  on  his.  I  could  not  see  the 
girl,  and  dare  not  avert  my  gaze  for  so  much  as  an 
instant.  The  man  wet  his  lips,  as  if  they  were 
parched,  and  I  could  perceive  the  nervous  movement 
of  his  throat. 

"  Well,  you  are  slower  in  answering  me  than  is 
altogether  safe.  I'll  warn  you  this  once.  Ned 
Cowan  knew,  by  some  means,  that  Miss  Harwood 
was  alone  in  this  house  tonight.  He  ordered  you  to 
come  here  for  some  special  purpose  of  his  own  — 
what  was  it"?  Is  he  coming  later?  " 

"  I  —  I  don't  know." 

"  Don't  know  what?  —  this  is  my  last  call !  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  coming,  or  not,"  he 
blurted  out  reluctantly.  "  He  was  hurt  in  the  fight." 

"And  if  he  cannot  come  himself  he  means  to 
send  others.  What  for?  To  loot  the  house?  Come, 
it  must  be  something  different  from  that,  or  he  would 
not  be  so  anxious  to  surprise  the  lady  here  alone. 
You  know,  Nichols!  and  you  are  going  to  answer! 
What  does  he  want  of  the  girl?  " 

My  hammer  clicked,  and  the  man  cringing  back, 
read  the  stern  meaning  of  my  face.  A  terrible  sus- 


112  The  Red  Mist 


picion  surged  over  me,  and  I  was  ready  to  kill.  He 
knew  his  life  hung  by  a  hair. 

"  To  —  to  marry  her,"  the  words  barely  audible. 

"  Marry  her !  "  I  echoed.  "  What  in  heaven's 
name  do  you  mean,  man  —  old  Ned  Cowan  marry 
her?  " 

"  No,"  he  stammered,  as  though  fearful  he  could 
not  explain  fast  enough.  "  Not  old  Ned  —  his  son, 
Anse." 

I  heard  the  startled  exclamation  of  the  girl  behind 
me. 

"  Anse  Cowan ! "  she  cried,  her  voice  full  of 
undisguised  horror.  "  Marry  me  to  that  low  brute. 
Did  he  ever  imagine  I  would  consent,  ever  even 
look  at  him?  " 

I  touched  her  with  my  hand  in  restraint,  the  re- 
volver still  at  the  preacher's  heart.  The  whole  foul 
plot  lay  exposed  in  my  mind. 

"  There  was  no  intention  of  asking  your  consent, 
Miss  Harwood,"  I  said,  satisfied  that  she  should 
know  all,  and  face  the  truth.  "  There  is  a  reason 
for  this  desperate  act  which  I  do  not  wholly  fathom, 
but  it  has  to  do  with  the  property  here,  and  the  feud 
between  Cowan  and  your  father.  If  Major  Har- 
wood be  dead,  as  this  man  reports,  you  are  the  sole 
heir,  and  old  Ned  has  conceived  the  idea  of  marry- 
ing you  by  force  to  his  son.  He  has  learned  you  are 


The  Jaws  of  the  Trap  113 

here  alone,  and  unprotected,  and  in  this  creature  of 
his  —  this  canting  preacher  —  he  has  found  a  fit 
tool  ready  at  hand  to  do  his  dirty  work.  Is  that 
it,  Nichols?" 

He  muttered  something  inaudible. 

"  They  sent  you  on  ahead  to  make  sure  Miss 
Harwood  was  here,  and  to  remain  until  they  ar- 
rived. How  many  are  going  to  be  in  this  happy 
wedding  party?  " 

The  man  shook  his  head  sullenly,  and  I  gripped 
him  by  the  throat. 

"Answer,  you  black-hearted  cur;  you  have  con- 
fessed too  much  to  hide  anything  now.  How  many 
are  coming  with  Anse  Cowan?  " 

"  Maybe  a  half  dozen  of  the  boys.  I  don't  know; 
they  were  talking  about  it  when  I  left,  and  thought 
it  was  going  to  be  a  great  lark." 

"Well,  it  is;  you  are  finding  that  out  already. 
When  were  they  to  be  here?  "  I  shook  him  to  loosen 
his  lagging  tongue. 

"  They  were  to  ride  out  an  hour  after  I  did." 

I  threw  the  wretch  back  into  the  chair  before  the 
fire,  but  held  him  still  cowering  before  the  point  of 
my  revolver.  The  dog  had  told  us  all  he  knew, 
and  there  was  a  snarl  to  his  thin  lips,  drawn  back 
and  exposing  his  yellow  teeth,  showing  that  his  only 
thought  now  was  revenge.  Any  moment  that  gang 


114  The  Red  Mist 

of  ruffians  might  appear,  and  I  was  helpless  there 
alone  to  contend  against  them.  Indeed  there  was 
no  way  in  which  we  could  hope  to  protect  ourselves, 
unless  it  was  by  flight  through  the  storm.  There 
might  yet  be  time  for  that  effort,  although  it  was 
impossible  to  decide  which  might  prove  the  safer 
road  to  choose.  I  had  arrived  on  foot,  yet  surely 
Miss  Harwood  must  have  a  riding  horse  stabled 
somewhere  close  at  hand.  These  considerations 
flashed  through  my  mind,  as  I  stared  into  Nichol's 
face.  The  house  was  silent;  the  only  sound  the  noise 
of  wind  and  rain,  the  anxious  breathing  of  the  girl 
pressing  against  my  shoulder.  I  dared  not  move, 
dared  not  avert  my  gaze  from  the  preacher;  there 
was  hatred  and  treachery  in  the  depths  of  his  eyes. 

"  Is  there  a  lock  on  the  parlor  door  leading  into 
the  hall?"  I  asked. 

"A  bolt  — yes." 

"  Please  close  and  bolt  it,  and  then  come  back 
here." 

I  heard  her  turn  and  cross  the  room;  caught  the 
sound  as  she  shot  the  bolt,  and  her  light  step  again 
on  the  floor. 

"  Now,  something  to  tie  this  man  with.  We  must 
be  quick  —  the  table-cloth  will  do !  sweep  that  clut- 
ter of  dishes  onto  the  floor.  Good !  now  cut  me  the 
cord  from  that  picture." 


The  Jaws  of  the  Trap  115 

I  had  no  thought  of  glancing  about;  I  can  scarcely 
conceive  even  now  that  I  did,  yet  my  eyes  must  have 
wandered  an  instant,  for  Nichols  had  the  wrist  of 
my  pistol  hand  in  his  grip,  and  jerked  me  half  off 
my  feet.  Even  as  I  staggered,  I  struck  out  with  my 
left,  landing  fairly  on  his  face,  and  he  went  back 
over  the  chair,  crushing  it  beneath  him.  But  as  he 
fell  he  dragged  the  revolver  from  my  fingers,  and 
sent  it  spinning  across  the  floor.  The  next  instant 
we  clinched,  our  bodies  pressed  half  way  into  the 
fireplace.  There  was  a  moment  of  fierce,  breathless 
struggle,  during  which  we  rolled  out  against  the 
table,  our  limbs  interlocked,  our  hands  gripping  for 
advantage.  The  girl  never  screamed  or  emitted  a 
sound.  Some  dim  consciousness  told  me  she  was 
held  prisoner  between  the  table  and  wall,  the  re- 
volver on  the  floor  beyond  her  reach.  I  had  no  time 
to  think,  to  do  aught  but  fight  desperately.  He  had 
my  throat  in  a  grip  like  iron,  and  my  fingers  were 
twined  in  his  hair.  But  my  left  arm  was  free,  and 
I  drove  my  fist  again  and  again  into  his  face  in 
short  jabs  that  brought  blood.  The  fellow  possessed 
no  skill,  but  the  wiry  strength  of  a  tiger.  I  found 
his  eyes  with  my  fist,  and  dazed,  his  hands  released 
their  grip,  and  I  broke  loose,  my  throat  livid  from 
his  finger  marks.  The  flap  of  a  gray  skirt  touched 
my  face,  and  a  blow  fell  —  the  man  went  limp  un- 


116  The  Red  Mist 


der  me,  his  head  upheld  by  the  angle  of  the  wall.  I 
struggled  to  my  knees,  still  staring  at  him,  uncertain 
as  to  what  had  actually  occurred,  struggling  for 
breath.  The  girl  stood  over  me,  white-faced,  her 
eyes  wide  open  with  horror,  the  remnant  of  the  teapot 
in  her  hand.  Suddenly  her  hands  covered  her  eyes, 
the  fragment  of  crockery  falling  noisily  to  the  floor. 
"I  —  I  struck  him,"  she  sobbed,  unnerved.  "  I 

—  I  have  killed  him !  " 

"  No  such  good  luck,"  I  answered,  recovering  my- 
self, and  grasping  her  hands,  so  that  I  could  look 
into  her  eyes.  "  The  man  is  not  dead  —  only 
stunned  by  the  blow.  He  will  be  conscious  in  a 
minute.  Do  not  become  frightened;  you  did  right, 
and  we  have  no  time  to  lose.  You  have  a  horse 
somewhere*?  " 

"  Yes,  in  the  stable." 

"  Get  whatever  you  need  for  a  ride  through  the 
storm.  Be  quick,  for  those  villains  may  be  here  at 
any  moment.  I'll  tie  Nichols,  and  wait  for  you  at 
the  foot  of  the  rear  stairs." 

She  hesitated,  her  hands  still  held  in  mine  uncon- 
sciously. 

"  You  —  you  mean  I  am  to  ride  for  Lewisburg 

—  and  —  and  you*?  " 

"  Oh,  I  must  do  the  best  I  can  on  foot.  We'll 
keep  together  as  long  as  possible ;  only  you  must  not 


The  Jaws  of  the  Trap  117 

fall  into  the  hands  of  these  men  —  not  if  this  fel- 
low is  a  specimen  of  their  class." 

"  Him !  "  she  looked  at  him  with  disgust,  curling 
her  lips.  "  I  am  not  afraid  of  him,  but  —  but  Anse 
Cowan,"  she  shuddered,  staring  out  into  the  dark 
hall.  "I  —  I  would  rather  be  dead  than  have  that 
foul  beast  touch  me." 

"  Then  go,  as  I  say,  and  hurry.  Get  a  wrap,  and 
your  revolver." 

She  slipped  out  of  the  room,  and  up  the  stairs, 
her  light  steps  making  no  sound  on  the  soft  carpet. 
I  bent  over  Nichols,  and  as  I  touched  him  he  stirred, 
and  opened  his  eyes,  staring  up  into  my  face.  The 
heavy  pot  had  cut  a  deep  gash  in  the  side  of  his 
head,  which  bled  freely,  and  one  of  his  eyes  was 
puffed  nearly  closed  where  I  had  pummelled  him. 
There  was  no  fight  left  in  the  fellow,  and  he  cringed 
back  at  sight  of  me,  flinging  up  his  arm  in  defense, 
all  manhood  beaten  out  of  him. 

"  Don't  hit  me !  "  he  whined.  "  I'm  no  friend  of 
Anse  Cowan." 

"  So  you've  had  enough !  Then  take  orders  from 
me." 

I  gathered  in  the  picture  cord  the  girl  had  dropped 
on  the  floor,  deciding  swiftly  what  it  was  best  to  do. 
If  I  left  the  fellow  lying  bound  there  those  new  ar- 
rivals would  discover  him  as  soon  as  they  got  into  the 


118  The  Red  Mist 


house.  His  story  would  make  clear  our  escape,  and 
how  we  had  gone.  Every  moment  of  delay  was  of 
the  utmost  value,  and  if  I  could  successfully  hide 
this  preacher  where  he  could  not  be  so  easily  discov- 
ered, the  search  for  him  would  retard  pursuit  —  his 
friends  would  be  puzzled  by  his  disappearance,  and 
waste  time  seeking  for  him. 

"  Turn  over,  Nichols !  Oh,  yes  you  can  —  all 
that  troubles  you  is  a  sore  head.  Come,  move  quick ; 
that's  it.  Now  put  your  hands  behind  your  back  — 
both  of  them.  I  mean  to  have  you  safe  this  time." 

His  wrists  were  big  and  knotted,  and  I  drew  the 
cord  tight  enough  to  make  the  fellow  wince,  despite 
his  groans  and  pretense  at  severe  suffering.  There 
was  no  reason  why  I  should  spare  him,  nor  could  I 
feel  any  inclination  to  do  so.  I  jerked  him  to  his 
feet,  using  no  gentle  methods  of  persuasion,  and 
turned  his  face  to  the  door,  picking  up  the  lamp  to 
give  light  for  the  journey. 

"  Go  up  the  stairs,"  I  commanded  sternly,  "  and 
keep  close  to  the  wall.  Oh,  you  can  walk  all  right, 
my  friend,  and  I  advise  you  to  do  as  I  say  —  you  see 
this  gun?  " 

The  scowl  on  his  face  was  malignant,  and  his  eyes 
glowed  like  coals,  but  he  moved  on  ahead  of  me 
across  the  hall,  and  up  the  carpeted  steps.  The  lamp 
held  high  above  my  head  in  one  hand,  sent  a  stream 


The  Jaws  of  the  Trap  119 

of  light  through  the  black  shadows,  and  revealed  his 
every  movement.  Once  he  paused  and  glanced  back 
over  his  shoulder,  muttering  some  threat  for  which 
I  cared  nothing,  but  the  gleam  of  my  revolver  caught 
his  eyes,  as  I  lifted  it  to  a  level,  and  he  went  on, 
growling  to  himself.  At  the  head  of  the  stairs  the 
girl  suddenly  appeared,  her  face  showing  white  in 
the  glow  of  the  lamp.  A  brown  cape,  fastened 
closely  at  the  throat,  enveloped  her  figure,  and  a  cap 
was  drawn  down  over  her  hair. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  questioned  swiftly.  "  Have 
the  others  come?  " 

"  Not  yet,  but  our  friend  here  revived,  and  I 
thought  it  best  to  put  him  where  he  would  be  safe. 
Is  there  any  room  up  here  windowless,  and  with  a 
door  that  can  be  locked?  " 

She  glanced  about,  uncertain. 

"  Why  —  oh,  yes !  there  is  a  large  closet  off  my 
room  where  he  might  be  locked  in.  He  —  he  was 
not  badly  hurt?  " 

"  Nothing  more  serious  than  a  headache.  Turn 
to  the  right,  Nichols ;  into  that  room,  where  the  light 
is  burning.  Oh,  yes,  you  will!  Kindly  open  the 
closet  door,  Miss  Harwood.  Ah !  a  prison  cell  made 
to  order.  Comfort  enough  here  Mr.  Preacher,  and 
ample  room  even  for  your  length  of  limb.  It  will 
be  a  fine  place  in  which  to  meditate.  Step  in,  man ! 


120  The  Red  Mist 


Don't  stand  growling  there,  for  it  will  do  no  good 
—  we  have  ourselves  to  think  about.  Get  in,  I 
say!" 

He  was  so  slow,  that  I  thrust  him  roughly  through 
the  opening,  and  closed  and  locked  the  door.  The 
girl  had  placed  the  lamp  on  a  table,  and,  as  I 
turned,  her  eyes  met  mine. 

"  Suppose  they  —  they  fail  to  come?  "  she  ques- 
tioned. "He  could  not  get  out;  he  might  die  in 
there." 

"  Little  danger  of  their  not  coming.  Anyhow  I 
prefer  risking  that  fellow's  life  rather  than  yours. 
Is  he  really  a  preacher?  " 

"  Yes;  he  has  a  church  at  the  Crossroads.  I  heard 
him  preach  once  at  a  camp  meeting.  He  was  here 
before  when  Tom's  wife  died,  and  conducted  the 
funeral." 

"  Tom?  one  of  the  servants?  " 

"  Yes,  my  father's  body  servant.  He  accompanied 
him  to  the  army."  The  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes, 
dimming  them,  and  her  hand  touched  my  sleeve. 
"  Oh,  Lieutenant,  do  you  really  suppose  he  has  been 
killed?" 

"  We  can  only  hope,"  I  answered,  catching  my 
breath  quickly.  "  Nichols  may  have  told  that  for  a 
purpose  —  a  desire  to  make  you  feel  helpless  and 
alone.  But  we  cannot  stand  here  and  talk.  You 


The  Jaws  of  the  Trap  121 

know  the  way  and  can  guide  us  in  the  dark,  can  you 
not*?  It  will  be  safer  not  to  leave  the  lamp  burn- 
ing." 

I  blew  the  light  out  without  waiting  for  an  an- 
swer, and  took  her  hand  in  mine. 

"  Now  you  must  lead,"  I  said  softly.  "  We  will 
go  down  the  back  stairs." 

We  slipped  out  into  the  hall  together,  her  clasp 
on  my  fingers  warm  and  confident,  and  I  closed  the 
door  of  the  room  behind  us.  Nichols  had  shouted 
some  threat  as  the  lock  clicked,  but  was  now  silent. 
The  soft  carpet  under  foot  enabled  us  to  move  noise- 
lessly, and  there  was  no  sound  in  the  deserted  house. 
A  flash  of  lightning  enabled  me  to  glimpse  the  win- 
dow at  the  end  of  the  hall,  and  my  companion's  face. 
She  looked  pale  under  the  peak  of  her  boy's  cap,  her 
eyes  large  and  opened  wide,  a  strand  of  loosened  hair 
shadowing  one  cheek.  Then  it  was  pitchy  darkness 
again,  and  all  about  us  the  silence  of  a  tomb.  My 
hand  encountered  the  baluster  rail,  and  she  had  taken 
a  single  step  downward,  when  we  heard  a  voice  be- 
low, and  the  crash  of  what  was  probably  the  stock  of 
a  rifle  on  the  outer  door.  A  second  blow  fell,  fol- 
lowed by  the  sound  of  splintering  wood.  The  voice 
came  sharper,  clearer;  I  could  distinguish  the  words. 

"  Now,  once  more,  Kelly !  There's  nothing  to 
be  afraid  of,  man.  Break  it  a  foot  lower  down,  so 


122  The  Red  Mist 

I  can  reach  the  key.  Where  is  Arise"?  do  you  know, 
Jake?  " 

"  He  an'  Bill  are  'round  front,"  some  fellow  an- 
swered hoarsely.  "  Thar's  a  busted  winder  thar. 
Yer  saw  ther  light  up  stairs  didn't  yer?  " 

"  Sure  —  the  gurl's  ye  re  all  right,  but  it  don't 
look  as  if  the  preacher  wus.  I  reckon  he  got  afeerd, 
an'  wus  waitin  fer  us  ter  show  up  furst.  Here,  you, 
Kelly,  giv'  me  aholt  on  thet  club." 

She  shrank  back  against  me,  with  a  little  startled 
cry,  and  I  held  her  close.  There  was  no  noise  as  yet 
toward  the  front  of  the  house,  but  two  of  the  vil- 
lains were  there  —  one  of  them  Anse  Cowan.  Be- 
yond doubt  they  had  entered  the  parlor  through  the 
broken  window,  and  were  groping  about  in  the  dark- 
ness, seeking  for  some  passage  leading  into  the  hall. 
We  were  in  the  trap,  caught  between  the  closing 
jaws. 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHAT    WE    OVERHEARD 

COULD  feel  the  trembling  of  her  body, 
and  for  an  instant  my  brain  seemed  to 
reel  with  dizziness.  The  danger  con- 
fronting us  was  not  so  much  mine  as 
hers;  my  uniform  might  possibly  save  me,  or,  at 
least,  prevent  my  suffering  from  anything  more  un- 
pleasant than  capture,  but  there  was  no  such  hope 
for  the  girl.  These  men  were  not  soldiers  but  des- 
peradoes, the  scum  of  the  hills,  and  they  had  come 
actuated  by  one  object  only  —  the  possession  of 
Major  Harwood's  daughter.  What  the  real  pur- 
pose of  the  Cowans  might  be  I  could  not  even  con- 
jecture, but  this  night  raid  was,  beyond  all  doubt,  a 
part  of  that  same  foul  plot  which  had  involved  the 
cowardly  murder  of  the  father.  That  had  been  the 
work  of  the  elder  Cowan,  and  now  had  come  the 
turn  of  the  son.  Here  was  the  culmination  of  the 
feud  between  the  two  families,  the  blood-anger 
which  had  smouldered  for  years,  finally  to  find  fit 
expression  in  this  outrage  under  the  guise  of  war. 
With  the  Major  dead,  and  his  only  child  married 
to  Anse  Cowan  —  whether  by  force,  or  otherwise  — 

123 


124  The  Red  Mist 

the  account  would  be  closed.  Once  legally  this  vil- 
lain's wife  all  her  inheritance  would  be  in  his  con- 
trol. That  must  be  the  object,  the  vile,  cowardly 
purpose,  which  had  brought  him,  and  his  murderous 
crew  to  this  lonely  house  through  the  storm.  He 
expected  to  surprise  the  girl  alone,  and  unprotected; 
in  the  canting  preacher  Nichols  he  had  a  tool  fitted 
to  do  his  bidding,  yet  even  under  such  conditions  he 
dare  not  venture  on  the  deed  unaccompanied.  He 
had  to  bring  a  gang  of  cut-throats  along  with  him 
—  a  dozen  men  to  overcome  the  resistance  of  a 
frail  girl.  That  very  fact  stamped  him  for  what  he 
was  —  a  sneaking  cur,  afraid  of  his  contemplated 
crime.  True;  yet  this  did  not  necessarily  mean  that 
he  would  prove  any  the  less  dangerous.  His  very 
sense  of  cowardice  might  render  him  the  more  des- 
perate, while  the  number  of  his  supporters,  and  their 
jeers  at  any  failure  on  his  part,  would  drive  him  to 
greater  atrocity.  All  this  flashed  over  me  in  the 
single  moment  we  stood  there,  hesitating,  confused, 
all  our  plans  for  escape  instantly  shattered.  I  had 
no  thought  but  to  fight  —  to  fight  desperately,  pro- 
tecting this  girl's  honor  with  my  life.  I  knew  of  no 
escape,  no  means  by  which  we  might  find  a  way  out 
of  the  toils  in  which  we  were  caught  —  we  must 
meet  them  here  at  the  stair  head,  in  the  dark,  and 
defend  ourselves  to  the  last  extremitv.  Death,  even, 


What  We  Overheard  125 

was  far  preferable  to  falling  alive  into  their  hands. 
I  felt  instinctively  that  it  would  be  her  choice.  She 
had  uttered  no  sound,  no  cry  after  that  first  startled 
exclamation.  Suddenly  her  hands  grasped  mine  in 
which  I  gripped  the  revolver. 

"Do  not  shoot  —  not  yet!"  she  whispered,  the 
sound  of  her  words  barely  audible.  "Wait;  there 
is  one  chance  still  that  we  may  deceive  them." 

"  A  way  leading  out*?  You  mean  a  secret  pas- 
sage?" 

"  No,  but  a  spot  where  we  might  hide,  and  be 
overlooked.  I  am  sure  none  of  these  men  know  this 
house;  Anse  Cowan  has  never  been  inside  of  it,  and 
most  of  the  ruffians  with  him  are  from  beyond  the 
mountains.  If  they  do  not  find  us  here  when  they 
search,  they  will  believe  we  have  escaped." 

"  They  will  discover  the  preacher,"  I  protested, 
yet  with  a  faint  throb  of  hope.  "  He  will  be  heard 
from  presently,  and  they  will  learn  the  truth  from 
him." 

"  All  he  knows  —  yes;  but  that  is  not  much.  He 
cannot  be  sure  that  we  have  not  had  time  in  which 
to  get  safely  away.  The  two  of  us  cannot  defend 
both  these  stairs,"  she  urged,  "  and  our  only  hope 
is  in  hiding.  Come  now,  while  we  have  time  — 
there  they  are,  battering  at  the  parlor  door.  They 
will  be  in  the  hall  next,  and  it  will  be  too  late." 


126  The  Red  Mist 


She  drew  me  back,  and  I  yielded  to  the  grasp  of 
her  hand.  The  darkness  was  intense,  but  she  moved 
swiftly  and  surely,  as  though  knowing  intimately 
every  inch  of  the  way;  her  fingers  touching  mine 
were  warm  and  firm,  no  longer  trembling.  Action 
had  brought  back  her  courage,  and  I  felt  my  own 
heart  beat  stronger  in  response.  Anything  was  bet- 
ter than  hopeless  waiting  —  any  chance,  any  des- 
perate effort.  The  door  in  front  crashed,  and  an 
oath  rumbled  upward;  to  the  rear  a  light  flashed,  its 
reflection  reddening  the  stair.  Aided  by  its  distant 
flicker  we  raced  back  down  the  upper  hall  to  where 
it  narrowed.  A  ladder  stood  there  leading  upward 
to  a  small  scuttle  above.  Instantly  my  mind  grasped 
her  plan  —  the  attic !  If  we  could  attain  the  attic 
unseen,  drawing  the  ladder  up  after  us  and  lower- 
ing the  cover  over  the  hole,  our  presence  in  the 
house  might  remain  unsuspected.  It  was  a  low,  flat 
roof;  the  space  above  must  be  small,  and,  unless  the 
fellows  knew  of  this  ladder  and  opening,  the  place 
would  probably  never  be  observed  in  the  course  of 
their  hasty  search  of  the  rooms.  Even  at  the  worst 
our  opportunity  for  defense  would  be  better  up  above 
than  in  that  open  hallway. 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  I  said  swiftly.  "  Go  up 
first,  Miss  Noreen  —  hurry.  Is  the  ladder  fastened 
to  the  floor?  " 


What  We  Overheard  127 

"By  a  single  small  nail  in  each  support;  only 
enough  to  hold  it  firm.  It  was  kept  here  in  case  of 
fire." 

"  Yes,  I  see;  I  can  kick  it  loose  easily.  Don't  de- 
lay; those  fellows  will  be  up  the  stairs  in  a  moment 
more,  and  they  are  bringing  a  light  with  them. 
Here,  let  me  help  you." 

She  crept  through  the  narrow  scuttlehole,  her  sup- 
ple, slender  body  rinding  easy  passage.  With  two 
blows  of  my  boot  I  loosened  the  supports,  freeing 
them  from  the  floors,  and  mounted  recklessly.  Al- 
ready men  were  on  the  stairs,  the  gleam  of  an  ap- 
proaching light  reflecting  along  the  side-walls.  There 
was  light  flooring  above,  and  sufficient  space  in  which 
to  move  freely,  although  I  could  see  nothing,  not 
even  the  breathless  girl  at  my  side.  Together  we 
grasped  the  upper  rungs,  and  drew  up  the  ladder, 
sliding  it  in  behind  us  on  the  floor.  The  scuttle  cover 
was  on  hinges,  and  I  clamped  it  down  securely  into 
place.  Fortunately  it  slipped  over  the  edge  of  the 
hole  noiselessly,  but  the  thin  center  board  had 
warped  slightly,  leaving  a  little  space,  through  which 
stole  a  tiny  gleam  of  light,  growing  brighter  as  the 
searchers  below  advanced  along  the  hall.  It  was  no 
more  than  a  narrow  bar  outlined  on  the  roof  over- 
head, and  yielding  us  an  indistinct  glimpse  of  each 
other's  faces,  as  we  lay  there  pressed  closely  together 


128  The  Red  Mist 


in  silent  suspense.  I  stretched  forward,  endeavoring 
to  peer  down  through  the  narrow  crack,  but  was 
baffled  by  its  smallness.  Only  the  steadiness  of  the 
light,  the  voices,  and  the  varied  noises  below,  gave 
us  information  of  what  occurred.  Yet  these  served 
to  reveal  clearly  enough  the  progress  of  the  search- 
ing party,  and  the  conclusions  to  which  they  arrived. 
They  possessed  more  than  one  lamp,  because  a  light 
continued  to  burn  steadily  in  the  hall  while  the  fel- 
lows were  busily  exploring  the  rooms  on  either  side. 
We  could  distinguish  the  opening  and  closing  of 
doors,  and  the  sound  of  voices  calling  to  others  on 
the  floor  below.  Once  some  fellow,  apparently  just 
beneath  us,  ripped  out  an  oath. 

"  Well,  by  God,  Jack,  do  you  suppose  Nichols 
has  dared  play  such  a  durned  trick  on  me  and 
squealed  to  the  girl  ?  " 

"  Hanged  if  I  know,"  was  the  sullen  reply.  "  But 
it  don't  look  like  thar  was  a  soul  in  the  house." 

"  Yer  right  it  don't,  but  I  can't  believe  he  ever 
had  the  nerve  to  do  such  a  damn  trick.  I'll  foller  the 
cuss  te"  hell  an'  back  if  he  has." 

I  felt  her  hand  touch  mine  softly,  and  bent  my 
head  until  her  lips  were  at  my  ear. 

"  That  was  Anse  Cowan,"  she  whispered.  "  I 
recognize  that  voice.  What  do  you  suppose  they 
will  do  now?  " 


What  We  Overheard  129 

The  one  fear  in  my  heart  was  that  in  the  fierce 
anger  of  disappointment  they  might  fire  the  house, 
but  I  could  not  frighten  her  by  giving  utterance  to 
the  suspicion.  My  fingers  tightened  their  grip;  the 
men  below  had  moved  on,  their  voices  grumbling 
along  the  hall. 

"  They  will  discover  the  preacher  presently,"  I 
said,  endeavoring  to  make  my  words  as  reassuring  as 
possible.  "  I  only  wonder  they  have  overlooked  him 
so  long;  I  supposed  he  would  make  an  outcry.'5 

"  Perhaps  he  is  afraid,"  she  commented.  "  I  have 
heard  that  Anse  Cowan  has  a  horrible  temper,  and 
when  things  go  wrong  acts  like  a  crazed  man  — 
Nichols  may  dread  facing  his  anger,  and  hope  to  es- 
cape discovery  by  remaining  still." 

"  That  may  be  true;  the  fellow  is  chicken-hearted 
enough  from  what  I  saw  of  him,  but  no  less  a  vil- 
lain. They  will  find  him,  however,  for,  from  the 
sounds,  they  are  prying  into  every  nook  and  cranny. 
I  heard  them  breaking  down  one  door  which  must 
have  been  locked  —  there !  they  are  battering  in  an- 
other now!  They  are  old  hands  at  this  game,  and 
this  is  not  the  first  house  they  have  looted.  When 
they  do  find  the  preacher  he  will  tell  everything  he 
knows,  as  fast  as  he  can  talk." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  and  sat  up.  The 
movement  was  noiseless,  but  in  the  instant  of  intense 


130  The  Red  Mist 

silence  which  followed,  we  heard  below  us  the  sud- 
den sound  of  struggle,  a  muffled  voice  calling  for 
mercy,  the  shuffling  of  feet,  and  the  noise  of  a  body 
being  hauled  forward  across  the  floor.  Then  some- 
one ran  along  the  hall,  passing  just  beneath  us. 

"  What  have  you  found,  Kelly1?  "  It  was  Anse's 
voice  roaring  out  the  question.  "  Ah !  the  old  fox 
dug  out  of  his  hole,  hey !  Now  see  here,  you  canting 
old  Baptist  hypocrite.  What  kind  of  a  trick  is  it 
you  are  playing  on  me?  Stand  him  up  there  boys, 
against  that  rail.  Stop  your  howling,  or  I'll  smash 
you  one  in  the  face.  Where  did  you  find  the  fool, 
Jack?  " 

"Locked  in  a  closet  yonder;  looks  like  it  might 
be  the  girl's  room." 

"Locked  in?" 

"  He  sure  was,  an'  no  key.  We  hed  to  bust  in 
the  door  ter  git  at  him." 

"  He  had  locked  himself  thar?  " 

"I  reckon  not;  leastwise  thar  want  no  key  thar, 
an'  none  in  his  pocket.  The  darn  fool  is  too  skeered 
ter  talk  yet." 

"  Well,  I'll  make  him,  er  else  thar'll  be  a  dead 
preacher  in  'bout  a  minute.  I  reckon  as  how  I'll  do 
as  much  skeering  as  anyone.  Now,  Nichols,  ye  see 
thet !  Whut  the  devil  wus  yer  doing  in  thet  closet?  " 

"  They  —  they  done  put  me  thar,  Anse." 


What  We  Overheard  131 

"  They!  What  do  yer  mean1?  Wus  thar  anyone 
yere  along  with  ther  girl*?  " 

Nichols'  voice  sounded  as  though  he  was  being 
choked,  his  reply  being  gasped  out. 

"Don't  do  thet,  Anse  —  my  God!  I  ain't  done 
nothing  fer  yer  ter  be  mad  at  —  I  —  I  just  couldn't 
help  bein'  whar  I  wus  —  let  me  'lone  a  minute,  an' 
I'll  tell  yer  all  'bout  it." 

"  Go  on,  then  —  who  wus  yere  beside  the  girl 
when  yer  cum?  " 

"  A  Yankee  leftenant,  a  cavalryman  I  reckon  from 
ther  yaller  stripes  on  his  legs." 

"  A  Yank!   Did  yer  hear  the  fellar's  name?  " 

"  Damn  if  I'm  sure;  he's  a  right  good  sized  man, 
an'  not  bad  lookin'.  Pears  to  me,  now  I  think  of 
it,  she  called  him  Raymond." 

There  was  a  gasping  sound  as  though  Anse's  hand 
had  closed  again  heavily  on  the  fellow's  throat. 

"  Raymond !  I  reckon  yer  lyin'  ter  me,  Parson. 
Yer  heard  tell  o'  thet  feller  over  in  camp,  an'  ther 
name  stuck.  'Twont  be  healthy  fer  yer  ter  play  no 
game  yere." 

"  I  ain't,  Anse.  Quit  a  chokin'  me.  I  never  heard 
tell  o'  no  Yank  named  Raymond  afore.  Be  thar  one 
'round  yere?  " 

"  Wall,  thar  was,  but  I  don't  reckon  thar  is  now," 
doubtfully.  "  Last  I  heerd  tell  o'  him  he  wus  over 


132  The  Red  Mist 

in  Fayette  a  ridin'  like  hell  fer  Charleston.  Monte's 
band  picked  him  up,  an'  he  didn't  find  this  kentry 
none  too  healthy  fer  his  line  o'  business,  which  was 
recruitin'  —  whut's  that,  Kelly1?  " 

"  Better  let  ther  preacher  tell  his  story,  Anse. 
We're  losin'  a  lot  o'  time;  I  reckon  thar  must  a  bin 
some  kind  o'  male  critter  yere;  'taint  likely  ther  girl 
locked  him  up  alone,  an'  it  don't  make  no  odds  whut 
the  Yank's  name  wus,  nohow." 

"Go  on,  Nichols;  whut  happened"?  Tell  us  the 
whole  ef  it,  but  make  it  short." 

The  preacher  drew  in  a  long  breath,  evidently  re- 
lieved to  have  the  pressure  of  Anse's  murderous  fin- 
gers removed  from  his  throat.  He  sputtered  a  bit  as 
he  began  to  speak,  and  there  were  muffled  words  we 
could  not  distinguish.  Occasionally  someone  of  his 
auditors  interrupted  with  an  oath,  or  exclamation. 
He  spoke  faster  as  he  proceeded,  as  though  feeling 
less  fear,  and  eager  to  have  the  task  over.  Only  once 
or  twice  did  Cowan  interject  a  brief  question. 

"  I  came  yere  as  you  told  me  to,  but  I  must  hev' 
rode  faster  then  was  expected,  fer  no  one  wus  yere 
when  I  got  ter  the  house.  It  was  stormin'  all  ther 
way,  an'  I  wus  plum  wet  through,  an'  plastered  with 
mud.  The  hoss  was  fit  ter  drap,  fer  I  thought 
maybe  I'd  be  late,  an'  we'd  cum  a  kitin'.  Thar  warn't 
nary  light  in  ther  shebang  exceptin'  upstairs  on  the 


What  We  Overheard  133 

west  side,  an'  I  reckoned  as  how  thet  mout  likely 
be  ther  gal's  room.  I  went  clar  'round  ter  make  sure, 
but  thar  warn't  no  other  glimmer  enywhere.  Didn't 
strike  me  I  had  nuthin'  ter  be  afeerd  of,  with  nobody 
but  the  young  gal  et  home.  I  reckoned  as  how  she'd 
know  me,  and  wouldn't  likely  make  no  fuss,  afore 
I  could  explain  how  I  cum  thar,  an'  I  sure  wanted 
ter  git  inside  outer  thet  cold  rain.  I  didn't  know 
how  long  it  might  be  'fore  you  fellers  come.  Wall, 
when  I  crept  up  on  the  front  piazza,  the  furst  thing 
I  see  was  a  winder  smashed  in,  an'  I  got  through 
thar,  an'  across  the  room  to  ther  door  leadin'  inter 
the  hall,  afore  I  saw  eny  signs  of  enybody.  Then  I 
glimpsed  a  light  in  the  room  opposite,  an'  seed  the 
gal  sittin'  in  front  o'  ther  fireplace.  I  didn't  know 
thar  wus  a  soul  else  in  the  house,  an'  thet  fire  looked 
so  good,  I  just  up  an'  stepped  inter  the  room  afore  I 
thought.  Then  I  see  this  yere  Yank  a  sittin'  at  the 
table  eatin'." 

"  He  was  in  uniform?  " 

"  Sure;  wet  and  muddy  as  if  he  hedn't  bin  inside 
long  either,  an'  he  didn't  leave  me  no  time  fer  ter 
back  out.  He  hed  me  covered  almost  'fore  I  see  him ; 
but  the  gal  jumped  up  an'  told  him  who  I  wus,  an' 
he  put  back  the  pistol,  an'  sat  thar  while  she  ques- 
tioned me  right  smart." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  tell  her?  " 


134  The  Red  Mist 

"  Only  'bout  her  father  being  dead  at  furst.  Thet 
I  heerd  about  it  at  Lewisburg,  an'  hed  felt  it  my  duty 
ter  bring  her  the  news.  I  reckon  if  she  hed  bin  thar 
alone  we'd  a  got  'long  fine  tergether,  but  thet  Yankee 
leftenant  wus  too  smart  ter  be  fooled  so  easy.  I 
reckon  he  knew  mor'n  he  let  on,  fer  ther  furst  thing 
I  knew  he  wus  questionin'  me  like  a  blame  lawyer, 
an'  a  shovin'  his  gun  in  my  face  fer  ter  make  me 
answer." 

"  You  damn  coward!    What  did  you  tell?  " 

"  Honest,  Anse,  I  don't  jest  know;  but  I  reckon 
I  did  spit  it  most  out,  fer  he'd  a  killed  me  if  I 
hadn't." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  told  them  I  was  comin' 
yere  ternight,  an'  goin'  fer  ter  make  the  girl  marry 
me  —  you  whinin'  cur*?  " 

"  How  could  I  help  it,  Anse?  I  reckon  if  thet 
feller  hed  a  pistol  et  your  head  you'd  a  did  some 
talkin'.  Maybe  he's  a  recruitin'  officer,  but  he  ain't 
no  sorter  man  ter  fool  with  onct  he  gits  mad." 

"  Well,  I'd  sure  like  fer  ter  know  who  he  is.  He 
can't  be  ther  feller  what  got  away  from  Monte,  fer 
he  lit  out  fer  Charleston.  How  did  this  yere  feller 
git  yere  —  on  horseback?  " 

"  I  didn't  git  sight  o'  no  hoss;  thar  wus  only  one 
four-legged  critter  in  ther  barn,  an'  I  reckon  as  how 
the  girl  must  hev'  rode  thet." 


What  We  Overheard  135 

"  Say,  Anse,"  broke  in  the  voice  of  Kelly,  "  I'll 
bet  this  Yank  is  the  one  thet  wus  with  Fox,  an'  got 
away.  He'd  hed  time  'nough  fer  ter  git  this  fer  on 
fut." 

"  But  what  does  he  call  hisself  Raymond  fer"?  " 

"  Damn  if  I  know  —  maybe  he  jest  heerd  tell  of 
the  other  feller,  an'  thought  as  how  he'd  git  'long 
easier  under  thet  name." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  it  won't  make  much  difference 
whut  the  cuss'  name  is  if  ever  I  git  my  hands  on 
him,"  growled  Anse  savagely.  "  Go  on,  Nichols ; 
how  did  yer  git  locked  up*?  " 

"  I  thought  as  how  thar  wus  a  chance  ter  break 
away,  an'  ther  Yank  an'  me  we  fit  like  a  couple  o' 
wild  cats.  I  reckon  maybe  I'd  a  licked  ther  cuss,  if 
the  gal  hadn't  a  stole  up  behin'  an'  hit  me  with  some 
crockery.  The  next  thing  I  know'd  they'd  dragged 
me  up  stairs  yere,  shoved  me  inter  that  thar  closet, 
an'  locked  ther  door." 

"  What  became  of  them?  " 

"  Skipped  out,  I  reckon.  I  never  seen  nuthing 
more  ov  'em." 

Anse  must  have  completely  lost  his  temper,  for 
there  was  the  sound  of  a  blow,  and  the  noise  of  a 
falling  body,  feet  shuffling  as  the  others  drew  back. 
Then  a  moment  of  silence. 

"  Pick  the  ol'  fool  up,"  said  a  voice.     "  Throw 


136  The  Red  Mist 


him  back  into  the  room  thar.  Maybe  he'll  hev  sum 
sense  when  he  wakes  up.  Kelly,  take  Jim  with  yer, 
an5  see  if  thet  hoss  is  in  ther  stable  yet.  If  them  two 
left  on  fut,  they  ain't  gone  fur  in  this  storm.  Eny- 
how  thar's  one  thing  sure  —  they  ain't  a  hidin'  up 
yere.  Cum  on,  boys,  let's  take  a  'nother  look  'round 
down  below." 

We  heard  their  feet  on  the  stairs,  and  the  light, 
which  had  streamed  up  through  the  crack  in  the 
scuttle,  faded  away,  leaving  us  in  utter  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  RECOGNITION 


LTHOUGH  fully  satisfied  that  all  the 
ruffians  had  left  the  upper  floor,  with 
the  exception  of  the  unconscious  Nich- 
ols, for  a  few  moments  neither  of  us 
ventured  to  speak  or  move.  What  would  the  fel- 
lows do  when  they  discovered  the  lady's  horse  still 
in  the  stable?  Would  they  decide  we  had  hastily 
fled  on  foot,  and  scatter  widely  in  search  of  some 
trace?  There  was  little  hope  of  their  finding  any 
trail  to  follow  in  the  storm  raging  without,  but  they 
might  very  reasonably  expect  to  overhaul  fugitives 
on  foot  by  a  thorough  scouring  of  nearby  roads  and 
fields.  Lewisburg  alone  promised  shelter  and  protec- 
tion, and  there  was  only  one  road  leading  to  Lewis- 
burg.  Beyond  doubt  Cowan  would  send  men  spur- 
ring in  that  direction,  and  others  probably  to  scour 
the  adjacent  fields  as  thoroughly  as  possible  in  the 
darkness.  But  in  the  meanwhile  what  should  we 
do?  was  there  any  possibility  of  escape  by  descend- 
ing? or  would  it  be  safer  to  remain  where  we  were 
until  the  return  of  daylight?  I  could  reach  up,  and 
feel  the  rafters  of  the  roof  overhead,  and,  now  in 

137 


138  The  Red  Mist 


the  silence,  hear  the  steady  downpour  of  the  rain. 
Our  position  was  far  from  being  a  pleasant  one,  and 
I  could  not  drive  from  my  mind  a  haunting  fear  lest 
those  villains  fire  the  house  when  finally  convinced 
of  our  escape.  There  was,  to  my  mind,  no  reason 
why  Anse  Cowan  should  refrain  from  such  an  act 
of  vandalism.  No  doubt  either  he  or  old  Ned  had 
had  a  hand  in  the  earlier  visit  to  the  place,  and 
if  there  was  then  anything  in  the  house  they  desired 
to  obtain  possession  of  it  had  been  attained.  Of 
course  he  might  be  induced  to  spare  the  property 
from  fire  in  the  expectation  that  it  would  some  time 
belong  to  him;  this  vague  hope,  no  doubt,  under- 
lay the  whole  affair  —  the  search  for  papers,  the 
murder  of  the  Major,  the  present  effort  to  forcibly 
marry  the  daughter.  All  these  things  formed  part 
of  a  well-concocted  plan,  through  which  the  Cowans 
expected  to  acquire  possession  of  Harwood's  prop- 
erty. The  war,  and  the  consequent  demoralization 
of  the  neighborhood,  had  given  them  an  opportu- 
nity for  revenge  they  were  not  slow  to  seize.  Hate, 
the  desire  for  vengeance,  the  brutal  passions  engen- 
dered by  a  feud,  found  ample  opportunity  now  for 
full  expression.  Lawlessness  ruled  supreme  in  all 
that  section  between  the  Green  Briar  and  the 
Alleghanies.  Of  course  it  would  not  always  be  so  — 
the  end  of  the  war  would  bring  a  return  to  normal 


The  Recognition  139 

conditions,  but  with  Harwood  dead,  his  private  pa- 
pers in  their  possession,  his  only  daughter  legally 
married  to  Anse,  the  Cowans  would  be  entrenched 
beyond  any  legal  attack.  What  they  took  with  the 
strong  hand,  they  could  hold. 

This  was  the  state  of  affairs  as  I  began  to  under- 
stand them  now,  piecing  this  and  that  together,  lying 
there  in  the  darkness,  listening  for  some  sound  of 
guidance  from  below.  I  could  hear  the  soft  breath- 
ing of  the  girl  at  my  side,  but  she  did  not  speak  or 
move.  She  had  overheard  all  that  was  said;  she 
must  also  realize  fully  the  object  of  these  men,  and 
the  desperation  of  our  position.  Would  she  continue 
to  trust  me?  to  believe  in  my  purpose1?  or  had  the 
words  of  betrayal  spoken  by  Anse  Cowan  and  Kelly 
left  a  sting  of  suspicion  behind?  If  they  had,  would 
I  dare  to  confess  the  truth,  fully  reveal  my  identity, 
and  thus  leave  the  fate  of  my  secret  mission  in  her 
hands?  Her  sympathies  must  naturally  be  with  the 
Union  forces ;  she  would  see  the  issues  from  the  view- 
point of  her  father.  That  would  have  nothing  to 
do  with  these  banditti,  but  later  might  greatly  inter- 
fere with  the  work  to  which  I  had  been  assigned.  I 
had  two  duties  to  perform  —  to  the  army,  and  to 
this  helpless  girl;  which  was  paramount  if  by  any 
chance  they  clashed?  I  could  not  answer,  but  I  did 
comprehend  which  came  first  —  I  must  save  Noreen 


140  The  Red  Mist 


Harwood  from  the  merciless  clutch  of  Anse  Cowan. 
I  must  remain  with  her  loyally,  until  she  was  safe 
in  the  protection  of  friends.  Possibly  I  could  ac- 
complish this,  and  still  retain  my  secret.  She  might 
not  have  heard,  might  not  have  clearly  understood 
what  the  men  said.  Their  denial  that  I  could  be 
recruiting  officer  Raymond  might  not  awaken  her 
suspicion  at  all.  She  might  have  been  too  intent 
on  her  own  danger  to  give  that  a  second  thought, 
or  have  it  make  the  slightest  impression  on  her  mind. 
At  least  that  was  the  theory  on  which  I  must  pro- 
ceed —  that  she  trusted  me  fully,  and  would  do  ex- 
actly as  I  advised. 

"  Is  there  any  other  way  out  of  here,  Miss  No- 
reen? "  I  asked,  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  "  any 
opening  leading  to  the  roof?  " 

"  I  have  never  seen  one,  though  often  up  here 
when  I  was  a  child." 

"  Then  our  only  means  of  escape  is  by  the  lad- 
der, and  we  dare  not  venture  that  until  assured  those 
fellows  have  really  left.  Do  you  hear  any  sound 
below?" 

We  both  listened  in  breathless  silence,  but  no 
noise  reached  us  with  any  distinctness.  I  thought  I 
caught  the  echo  of  a  voice,  but  it  sounded  from  out- 
side the  house  —  possibly  someone  yelling  a  report 
from  the  stable. 


The  Recognition  141 

"  Shall  I  risk  exploring*?  "  I  asked  doubtfully. 
'''  There  is  surely  no  one  on  this  floor  except  Nichols, 
and  I  judge  he  has  been  knocked  out  for  some  time. 
We  can  hardly  wait  here  for  him  to  recover,  and 
give  us  free  passage.  What  action  do  you  think  we 
ought  to  take*? " 

"  I  certainly  have  no  desire  to  remain  here  longer 
than  is  necessary,"  she  answered  calmly,  "  but  I  do 
not  believe  those  men  have  all  left  the  house.  Some 
may  be  outside  in  the  storm  searching  for  trace  of 
us,  but  there  are  others  surely  on  guard  below.  Did 
you  hear  that?  a  knife  fell  on  the  floor;  someone  is 
eating  in  the  dining  room." 

"  I  am  going  to  lift  the  scuttle ;  possibly  some 
light  may  filter  up  the  stairs." 

I  was  obliged  to  loosen  it  by  the  insertion  of  my 
knife  blade,  yet  the  clamp  yielded  with  but  little 
noise,  and  I  peered  eagerly  down  the  opening.  There 
was  a  lamp  burning  in  the  lower  hall,  the  reflection 
sufficiently  bright  to  reveal  the  general  situation. 
No  men  were  visible,  nor  did  I  hear  any  voices  in 
conversation.  One  thing  was  certain  —  the  upper 
hall  was  completely  deserted,  for  I  could  see  along 
its  entire  length.  I  lifted  my  head,  and  glanced 
back  to  where  the  girl  remained  silent,  and  motion- 
less. My  eyes,  long  accustomed  to  the  darkness, 
could  distinguish  her  outlines,  even  the  dim  contour 


142  The  Red  Mist 

of  her  face.  She  sat  upright  on  the  rough  flooring, 
apparently  regarding  me  intently. 

"  Do  you  find  the  way  left  clear?  " 

"  So  far  as  the  upper  hall  is  concerned  —  yes. 
There  is  a  light  burning  below,  although  I  can  per- 
ceive no  movement.  They  may  be  in  the  dining 
room,  but  I  do  not  believe  they  will  search  up  here 
again." 

"  You  propose  then  lowering  the  ladder?  " 

The  tone  in  which  she  asked  these  questions  vexed 
me,  her  voice  somehow  sounded  lifeless  and  cold. 

"  We  shall  certainly  be  more  comfortably  con- 
cealed in  one  of  those  rooms  below,"  I  answered, 
endeavoring  to  speak  naturally,  "  and  better  able  to 
accept  any  opportunity  for  escape  which  may  offer." 

"Yes?"  The  slight  rising  inflection  stung  me. 
What  did  her  actions  mean?  Why  should  she  so 
suddenly  assume  that  tone  with  me?  The  sooner 
I  knew  the  better. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Harwood,"  I  said 
quietly,  "  but  I  fail  to  understand  why  you  should 
speak  to  me  in  this  manner.  You  have  shown  con- 
fidence, trust,  in  my  former  efforts  to  serve  you,  and 
I  am  just  as  eager  now  to  be  of  service." 

"  You  mean  you  wish  me  to  have  complete  con- 
fidence in  you?  " 

"  Certainly.     I  can  do  nothing  otherwise." 


The  Recognition  143 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence,  in  which  her 
breathing  was  plainly  audible.  Beneath  the  shadow 
of  an  uplifted  hand  I  felt  that  her  eyes  were  upon 
my  face. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  she  said  finally,  her  voice 
more  expressive  of  interest.  "  It  is  surely  no  more 
than  natural  that  I  should  desire  to  know  whom 
I  have  the  honor  of  talking  with." 

"  But  do  you  not  know?  " 

"  No,"  firmly  and  decisively.  "  I  accepted  you 
on  behalf  of  the  uniform  you  wore,  although  I 
could  not  clearly  comprehend  why  you  felt  it  neces- 
sary to  assume  the  name  of  a  brother  officer,  and 
endeavor  to  deceive  me  as  to  your  real  identity.  I 
thought  there  might  be  a  worthy  reason,  and  so  I 
pretended  a  confidence  in  you  which  I  could  not 
altogether  feel.  I  knew  you  were  not  Charlie  Ray- 
mond; there  is  no  resemblance  between  you,  and 
your  explanation  was  lame  —  for  there  was  no  other 
cadet  of  that  name  at  West  Point.  You  heard  what 
those  men  said  —  yet  you  go  on  pretending  to  me ; 
thinking,  perhaps,  that  I  failed  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  their  words.  You  are  the  officer  they  re- 
ferred to,  are  you  not?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  escaped  when  Fox's  command  was  at- 
tacked." 

"  You  were  an  officer  in  Captain  Fox's  troop?  " 


144  The  Red  Mist 

"  No;  I  joined  him  by  accident  at  Hot  Springs." 

"  Under  what  name?  " 

The  utter  uselessness  of  attempting  to  lie  was 
apparent.  Her  questions  were  too  direct,  too 
straight-forward,  for  any  further  evasion.  The 
slightest  quibbling  now  would  cost  me  her  friendship 
forever.  If  I  hesitated,  it  was  scarcely  noticeable. 

"  Under  the  name,"  I  replied  quietly,  "  of 
Charles  H.  Raymond,  Lieutenant  Third  U.  S.  Cav- 
alry, on  recruiting  service." 

"Oh!"  the  exclamation  burst  forth  in  surprise 
at  my  frank  avowal.  "  Then  you  did  not  make  that 
up  merely  to  deceive  me*?  You  had  been  passing 
under  that  name  with  others.  You  had  taken  it  for 
a  distinct  purpose  —  a  —  a  military  purpose?  " 

"  I  took  it,"  I  said  slowly,  and  deliberately,  my 
eyes  looking  steadily  at  her,  "  because  I  knew  such 
a  Federal  officer  had  been  detailed  to  service  in  this 
neighborhood." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  quickly,  making  a  little 
gesture  with  one  hand. 

"  Then  —  then  you  are  a  Confederate?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  A  spy !  You  are  falsely  wearing  that  uniform ! 
Are  you  —  are  you  a  soldier?  " 

"  A  sergeant  of  artillery,  Miss  Harwood,"  I  re- 
plied, calm  and  determined  now  that  I  had  once 


The  Recognition  145 

made  the  plunge.  "  I  have  done  nothing  I  need  be 
ashamed  to  confess.  If  I  have  taken  my  life  in  my 
hands  to  serve  the  cause  of  the  South,  it  was  in 
obedience  to  the  orders  of  my  superiors." 

"  Whose  orders'? " 

"General  Jackson  directly;  although  Robert  E. 
Lee  was  present,  and  gave  final  instructions." 

"  To  come  here  secretly,  in  disguise4?  for  what 
object?  " 

"  To  learn  what  I  could  of  General  Ramsay's 
forces  in  this  district,  and  the  disposition  of  the 
mountain  men,  and  their  leaders.  There  is,  in  war, 
nothing  dishonorable  in  such  a  service.  I  am  doing 
my  duty  as  a  soldier." 

Her  hands  concealed  her  face,  and  I  could  judge 
nothing  as  to  its  expression;  whether,  or  not,  my 
words  had  any  weight  with  her.  She  sat  motionless, 
bent  slightly  forward.  At  last  she  said  slowly : 

"I  —  I  know  enough  of  —  of  army  life  to  be 
aware  that  men  are  not  ordered  to  such  hazardous 
work  —  they  are  asked  to  volunteer.  Only  a  brave 
man  would  assume  such  a  risk;  only  a  man  who 
believed  in  himself,  and  his  cause.  I  —  I  like  you 
better  because  you  have  told  me.  I  believe  you  are 
honest  with  me  now.  I  did  not  know  what  to  do, 
or  what  to  say  before.  I  knew  you  were  not  Ray- 
mond, and  that  you  were  acting  a  lie  —  but  could 


146  The  Red  Mist 

not  guess  your  purpose.  What  made  it  harder  to  un- 
derstand," her  voice  hesitating  slightly,  "  arose  be- 
cause there  was  something  about  you  so  oddly 
familiar;  I  —  I  felt  that  I  ought  to  recognize  your 
face;  that  somewhere  we  had  met  before  —  have 
we?" 

"  Yes,  Miss  Noreen;  I  am  Tom  Wyatt." 

"  Why !  Why,  of  course !  "  the  swift  expression 
was  one  of  intense  relief.  "How  stupid  of  me! 
Oh,  I  am  so  glad  that  I  know."  To  my  surprise  she 
held  out  both  hands  impulsively.  "  Your  being  a 
spy  doesn't  make  any  difference  now  that  I  know 
who  you  really  are.  It  is  no  wonder  I  did  not 
recognize  you  —  why  you  were  only  a  boy  —  " 

"  Not  when  you  rode  by  my  mother  and  me  on 
the  pike." 

"  A  year  ago*?  I  remember;  yet  I  hardly  caught 
a  glimpse  of  you  through  the  dust.  You  were 
just  a  boy  when  you  were  here  last.  Why  you 
had  long  curls." 

"  And  thought  Noreen  Harwood  the  most  beauti- 
ful little  girl  I  had  even  seen." 

"Oh,  indeed;  well,  you  were  never  nice  enough 
to  say  so.  All  I  distinctly  recall  is  that  you  broke 
my  doll,  and  I  declared  I  would  never  speak  to 
you  again." 

"  I  hope  at  this  time  to  make  amends,"  I  hastened 


The  Recognition  147 

to  say,  glad  that  even  such  dim  memory  served  to 
break  the  ice  between  us.  "  Do  not  let  my  former 
rudeness  count  against  me  now,  Miss  Noreen.  I  ap- 
peal for  forgiveness  most  humbly,  and  would  even 
bring  you  a  new  doll." 

"  My  wants  are  greater  now." 

"  And  my  desire  to  please  stronger." 

She  drew  in  her  breath  sharply,  as  though  sud- 
denly awakening  to  the  foolishness  of  such  idle 
exchange  of  words. 

"  Why,  how  ridiculous  for  us  to  sit  here  talking 
of  our  boy  and  girl  days.  For  the  moment  I  had 
utterly  forgotten  the  peril  of  our  surroundings.  Why 
you  —  you  are  in  even  greater  danger  than  I." 

"Oh,  no;  from  all  I  have  seen  and  heard  the 
Cowans  must  be  in  sympathy  with  the  South,  or  they 
never  would  have  made  the  attack  on  Fox's  party, 
or  held  Lieutenant  Raymond  prisoner.  I  had  con- 
sidered going  direct  to  Anse,  revealing  my  identity, 
and  demanding  protection." 

Her  hands  grasped  my  sleeve. 

"  No,  not  that !  You  do  not  understand,  Tom 
Wyatt.  These  men  care  nothing  for  the  issues  of  the 
war.  They  merely  use  them  to  cover  up  their  own 
lawless  deeds,  and  to  assist  in  working  out  schemes 
of  revenge.  They  are  neither  Federal,  nor  Con- 
federate; they  are  robbers,  murderers,  and  thieves. 


148  The  Red  Mist 

Is  Anse  Cowan  here  tonight  for  any  purpose  but  his 
own?  You  realize  what  that  purpose  is." 

"  I  have  heard  enough  to  make  me  certain,"  I 
answered.  "  He  would  force  you  into  marriage  to 
thus  gain  control  of  this  property.  The  killing  of 
Major  Harwood  was  part  of  the  plan." 

"  You  know  then  of  my  father's  death"?  You 
know  that  report  to  be  true?  Why,  you  said  you 
were  with  Captain  Fox  at  Hot  Springs!  Is  it  so?  " 

"  Yes,  Miss  Noreen,  it  is  true.  I  saw  your  father's 
body,  and  that  of  his  servant  Tom.  I  came  across 
the  mountains  with  the  man  who  killed  them  both. 
I  supposed  him  to  be  a  scout.  He  called  himself 
Jem  Taylor,  and  when  they  first  met  your  father 
addressed  him  by  that  name.  They  met  by  appoint- 
ment at  a  house  a  mile  south  of  Hot  Springs.  Your 
father  said  nothing  to  you  of  such  a  man?  " 

"  No;  I  saw  him  but  for  a  moment  as  he  passed 
through  Lewisburg  on  his  way  east.  He  was  to  meet 
a  scout  beyond  the  mountains,  but  no  name  was 
mentioned.  What  did  the  man  Taylor  look  like?  " 

"  I  described  him  to  Captain  Fox,  and  one  of  his 
men,  a  sergeant,  instantly  pronounced  the  fellow  to 
be  old  Ned  Cowan." 

"  Ned  Cowan !  Why,  that  could  not  be !  My 
father  would  never  have  an  appointment  alone  with 
him.  They  have  been  deadly  enemies  for  years." 


The  Recognition  149 

"  That  may  be  true,  Miss  Noreen.  I  can  only  tell 
you  what  little  I  know.  Your  father  might  have 
been  deceived;  drawn  into  a  trap.  He  was  there 
apparently  by  appointment  to  confer  with  a  man 
known  to  him  as  Taylor.  Who  Taylor  really  was 
I  can  not  say  —  but  he  was  an  enemy,  not  a  friend, 
of  Major  Harwood.  I  do  not  insist  that  the  fellow 
was  Ned  Cowan,  but  I  am  sure  he  belonged  to  the 
gang.  We  trailed  him  nearly  to  New  River,  and 
had  gone  into  camp  amid  the  mountains  when  the 
Cowans  attacked  us.  In  my  judgment  the  kill- 
ing of  your  father,  and  the  raid  on  this  house  tonight, 
form  part  of  the  same  plan." 

I  do  not  think  she  was  crying,  although  her  face 
was  buried  in  her  hands.  I  turned  my  eyes  away, 
down  through  the  scuttle  hole,  but  nothing  moved 
along  the  hall  below.  The  house  seemed  absolutely 
deserted,  but  the  lamp  continued  to  burn,  and  yet, 
even  as  I  felt  the  strangeness  of  such  intense  silence, 
a  door  slammed  somewhere  in  the  distance,  and  a 
gruff  voice  spoke. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


WAITING  THE  NEXT  MOVE 


NSE  —  Kelly,  are  either  of  you  there?  " 
There  was  the  sound  of  chairs  being 
pushed  hastily  back  from  a  table,  and 
rapid  steps  on  the  floor. 
"Yes;  what's  wrong?     Have  you  found  some- 
thing? " 

"Sure;  Bill  an'  I  saw  them;  they  were  a  tryin' 
ter  git  the  hoss;  but  afore  either  of  us  could  fire, 
they  sorter  slipped  'long  back  o'  ther  fence,  an'  got 
away.  It's  darker'n  hell  out  thar,  an'  Bill  sed  fer  me 
ter  cum  in  yere  an'  tell  yer  that  if  you  'en  Kelly  wud 
cut  across  the  road,  an'  sorter  head  the  cusses  off 
we'd  bag  the  two  easy." 

"  Whar's  the  rest  of  ther  boys?  " 
"  Ridin'  the  Lewisburg  pike  accordin*  ter  orders, 
I  reckon.     Leastwise  we  ain't  seen  'em  since  yer 
tol'  us  ter  watch  ther  stable.    Bill  an'  I  can't  round 
them  up  alone." 

"  All  right,  Dave.    Where  are  they  now?  " 
"  In  ther  orchard,  a  creepin'  'long  the  fence.    Bill's 
followin'  'em  up,  an'  all  you  got  ter  do  is  run  'long 

150 


Waiting  the  Next  Move  151 

the  road  an'  git  ter  the  corner  ahead  o'  'em.  They 
can't  go  no  other  way." 

I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  two  as  they  crossed  the 
lower  hall  hurriedly.  The  lamp  flickered  in  the 
draft  of  the  opened  door,  and  one  fellow  swore 
roughly,  as  he  stumbled  over  some  obstacle.  Then 
the  door  closed,  and  the  flame  steadied.  In  the 
silence  we  could  hear  again  the  beating  of  rain  on  the 
roof  over  head. 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  they  could  have  seen"?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Shadows  likely  enough.  Let  them  hunt.  We 
know  now  the  house  is  deserted,  and  can  find  more 
comfortable  quarters  —  perhaps  even  slip  away  be- 
fore anyone  returns.  You  will  go  with  me  *?  " 

"  Of  course;  I  am  not  afraid  of  Tom  Wyatt." 

"  You  were  once,  young  lady  —  down  by  the  old 
mill." 

She  laughed,  as  if  the  suddenly  revived  memory 
had  driven  the  seriousness  of  the  present  situation 
from  mind. 

"When  I  thought  you  an  Indian*?  Oh,  I  have 
entirely  recovered  from  that  fear.  I  am  even  going 
to  confess  I  liked  you  then." 

"Good!  and  now?" 

"  That  is  my  secret,  sir.  Is  it  not  enough  to  com- 
pel me  to  companion  with  a  rebel  spy,  without 


152  The  Red  Mist 


asking  impertinent  questions'?  Let  me  help  you  with 
the  ladder." 

We  passed  it  down  slowly,  and  carefully,  until 
the  lower  end  rested  securely  on  the  floor  below. 
If  Nichols  had  recovered  from  the  effect  of  the 
severe  blow,  he  had  made  no  sound,  and  I  had  almost 
forgotten  his  presence.  I  drew  back,  and  permitted 
the  lady  to  descend  first,  holding  the  upper  supports 
firmly  until  her  feet  touched  the  floor.  It  was  a 
struggle  for  me  to  force  my  larger  bulk  through  the 
narrow  opening,  but  I  succeeded  finally,  and  stood 
beside  her.  In  the  brighter  light  I  could  perceive 
more  clearly  the  expression  of  the  girl's  face,  and 
realized  the  friendliness  of  her  eyes.  My  frank 
confession  had  won  me  her  confidence;  no  matter 
where  her  sympathy  might  be  in  this  war  struggle 
my  allegiance  to  the  cause  of  the  South  was  no 
serious  barrier  between  us;  even  the  fact  that  I  was 
masquerading  there  in  a  stolen  uniform,  and  under 
an  assumed  name,  had  not  greatly  changed  her  trust 
in  an  old  playmate.  My  heart  beat  faster  to  this 
knowledge,  yet,  in  some  way,  although  I  rejoiced,  the 
recognition  brought  with  it  a  strange  embarrassment. 
To  her  I  seemed  to  be  only  the  boy  Tom  Wyatt, 
grown  up.  She  met  me  in  the  same  open-hearted, 
careless  manner  of  our  childhood  —  as  though  it 
was  only  yesterday  when  we  played  together.  But 


Waiting  the  Next  Move  153 

to  me  she  was  no  longer  the  girl  who  ran  and  laughed 
—  she  had  changed  into  a  woman ;  and  my  heart 
throbbed  to  the  glance  of  her  eye,  my  blood  stirred 
to  the  touch  of  her  hand.  The  very  ease  with  which 
she  appeared  to  resume  the  old  careless  relationship 
brought  to  me  a  pang  of  regret.  I  was  not  a  boy, 
nor  content  that  she  should  regard  me  from  that 
standpoint. 

"  It  sounds  as  though  the  storm  was  harder  than 
ever,"  she  said.  "  Where  shall  we  go*?  " 

"  My  choice  would  be  to  hide  in  one  of  these 
rooms,  for  the  present,  at  least.  We  could  scarcely 
hope  to  get  the  horse  out  of  the  stable  unseen,  and, 
even  if  we  did,  we  would  be  likely  to  ride  into  some 
of  the  gang." 

"  But  they  will  return  to  the  house." 

"  Before  they  leave  —  yes ;  but  it  is  hardly  prob- 
able they  will  search  up  here  again.  Anse  will  be 
in  ill-humor  enough  when  he  decides  we  have  really 
escaped,  but  will  never  imagine  that  our  hiding 
place  is  in  the  house.  They  will  give  up  by  daylight, 
and  then  the  way  will  be  clear." 

"  And  where  will  you  go*?  " 

"  Why,"  in  surprise.  "  I  could  not  leave  you 
alone  until  I  placed  you  in  the  care  of  friends." 

"  At  Lewisburg,  you  mean*?  " 

"  If  that  is  where  you  wish  to  go." 


154  The  Red  Mist 


Her  eyes  met  mine  frankly,  but  with  an  expression 
in  their  depths  I  failed  to  fathom. 

"  Not  wearing  that  uniform,"  she  said  quietly, 
"  or  under  the  name  of  Lieutenant  Raymond.  Do 
not  misunderstand.  There  is  friendship  between  us 
—  personal  friendship,  the  memory  of  the  past,  a 
knowledge  of  the  intimacy  between  your  father  and 
mine.  More,  I  am  grateful  to  you  for  the  service 
you  have  been  to  me  this  night;  nor  do  I  hold  it 
against  you  that  you  risk  your  life  in  the  cause  for 
which  you  fight.  But  I  am  Union,  Tom  Wyatt, 
and  I  cannot  help  you  in  your  work,  nor  protect 
you.  When  daylight  comes  I  am  going  to  say  good- 
by  —  and  forget  that  I  have  even  seen  you." 

"  But,"  I  protested,  "  why  could  we  not  part,  if 
we  must,  at  Lewisburg,  after  I  know  you  are  safe*?  " 

"  There  are  Federal  troops  at  Lewisburg.  They 
know  me,  and  their  commander  is  aware  of  my 
acquaintance  with  the  officer  whose  name  you  have 
assumed.'* 

"  Then  you  knew  me  for  a  fraud  from  the  very 
first  moment  of  our  meeting?  " 

"  Yes;  I  knew  you  were  not  the  man  you  claimed 
to  be.  I  said  nothing,  for  I  wished  to  learn  your 
object." 

"Yet,  in  a  measure,  at  least,  you  trusted  me?" 

The  eyes  into  which  I  gazed  smiled  slightly. 


Waiting  the  Next  Move  155 

"  Hardly  that,  perhaps.  Your  face  is  an  honest 
one,  and  there  was  a  vague  familiarity  about  it  which 
made  me  determined  to  learn  who  you  were.  Be- 
sides —  well  really,  I  had  no  choice ;  I  was  alone 
here,  and  helpless." 

"  True ;  yet  you  have  not  confessed  all." 

"All!    What  else?" 

"  My  guess  is  you  possessed  a  stronge  desire  to 
protect  Lieutenant  Raymond." 

"  Oh,  indeed !  "  she  laughed,  but  her  eyes  fell. 
"  That  might  have  been  an  added  motive  —  yes. 
I  naturally  desired  to  discover,  if  possible,  why  any- 
one should  pretend  to  be  he.  My  interest  was  — 
was  not  personal,  however;  it  was  patriotic." 

"  But  you  are  friendly?  "  I  persisted,  unable  to 
resist  the  impulse.  "  This  lieutenant  is  not  a  mere 
acquaintance?" 

"  I  feel  under  no  obligation  to  answer  that  ques- 
tion," she  returned,  her  cheeks  flushed.  "  There  is 
no  reason  why  you  should  ask.  My  interest  in  the 
Union  cause  is  sufficient  explanation.  I  am  not  a 
little  girl,  any  more." 

"  Nor  am  I  a  mere  boy,  Miss  Noreen.  We  have 
met  here  as  man  and  woman,"  I  said  earnestly. 
"  Our  past  is  a  bond  between  us;  to  me  a  pleasant 
memory  —  but  I  do  not  rely  upon  it  for  the  future. 
Even  although  I  am  a  Confederate  soldier,  I  want 


156  The  Red  Mist 


you  to  consider  me  a  personal  friend  —  one  in  whom 
you  feel  an  interest  equal  at  least  to  that  shown 
Lieutenant  Raymond." 

"  Why  I  do,"  her  eyes  opening  widely.  "  It  is 
for  your  own  protection  I  refuse  your  escort  to  Lew- 
isburg.  I  am  a  traitor  to  my  flag  not  to  take  you 
there,  and  surrender  you  a  prisoner.  If  —  if  I  did 
not  care  I  would." 

"  You  mean  memory  of  the  boy  restrains  you?  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  her  lips  parted,  a  frown 
wrinkling  her  forehead. 

"  No,"  she  acknowledged  slowly,  as  though  the 
thought  had  just  dawned.  "  That  memory  is  not 
even  vivid.  I  —  I  believe  you  to  be  a  man  I  shall 
be  glad  to  know  —  Hark!  that  was  a  shot !  " 

"Yes,  and  another;  they  sound  to  the  west  of 
the  house." 

"  In  the  orchard,  beyond  the  stable.  Can  there 
really  be  someone  hiding  there?  " 

"  They  are  certainly  firing  at  something  —  there 
speaks  another  rifle  farther  south.  Those  fellows 
will  be  back  presently,  and  we  must  be  out  of  their 
way.  What  room  is  that  beyond  the  chimney?  " 

"  It  was  used  by  the  housekeeper.  Do  you  know 
where  Parson  Nichols  was  left?  " 

"  In  the  room  at  the  head  of  the  stairs;  why  yes, 
your  room.  Could  they  have  killed  the  man?  " 


Waiting  the  Next  Move  157 

I  pushed  open  the  door,  which  stood  slightly  ajar, 
and  looked  in.  Nichols  had  partially  lifted  himself 
by  clinging  to  the  bed,  and  his  eyes  met  mine. 
The  marks  of  the  savage  blow  with  which  Cowan 
had  floored  him,  were  plainly  evident,  and  the  man 
appeared  weak  and  dazed.  Yet  he  instantly  recog- 
nized me,  and  crouched  back  in  terror.  His  return 
to  consciousness,  his  knowledge  of  our  presence  in 
the  house,  only  meant  increased  danger.  Anse  and 
his  followers  might  not  search  again  for  us,  but  if 
they  returned  they  would  certainly  examine  into  his 
condition,  and  he  would  immediately  confess  all 
he  knew.  The  preacher  might  feel  no  eager  desire  to 
aid  Cowan  after  the  rough  treatment  received,  but 
fear  would  compel  him  to  speak,  and  there  was  no 
love  in  his  heart  for  either  of  us  which  would  restrain 
his  lips.  Our  only  safety  therefore  lay  in  having 
him  completely  in  our  power.  If  those  fellows  found 
him  gone,  they  would  naturally  suppose  he  had  re- 
covered consciousness,  and  escaped  in  the  darkness. 
They  would  scarcely  care  enough  to  search  the  house. 
I  stepped  into  the  room,  and  gripped  his  collar. 

"  Stand  on  your  feet,  man !  Oh,  yes,  you  can ; 
you're  a  little  groggy  yet,  no  doubt,  but  with  strength 
enough  for  that.  Come;  I'll  hold  you.  Now,  out 
into  the  hall.  Miss  Harwood,  may  I  trouble  you 
to  open  that  door  —  yes,  the  housekeeper's  room; 


158  The  Red  Mist 

we'll  hide  ourselves  in  there.  By  Jove,  that  sounds 
like  a  regular  volley !  " 

I  pushed  the  man  forward,  and  flung  him  down 
on  the  bed,  still  retaining  my  grip  on  his  collar. 

"  Not  a  move,  or  a  sound,  Nichols !  Attempt  to 
betray  us,  and  your  life  is  not  worth  the  snap  of  a 
finger.  Miss  Harwood." 

"  Yes." 

"  Close  the  door,  and  lock  it;  is  there  a  bolt4?  " 

"  A  strong  iron  one,  but  it  seems  rusty." 

I  stepped  across,  and  forced  it  into  the  socket 
with  a  sharp  click.  The  same  instant  a  vivid  flash 
of  red  lit  up  the  whole  interior,  the  light  glaring  in 
through  the  unshaded  windows,  and  reflecting  from 
the  walls.  Nichols  started  up  with  a  little  cry  of 
terror,  but  I  forced  him  back. 

"  It  is  not  the  house,"  I  said  sternly.  "  They 
must  have  fired  the  stable.  Keep  down  out  of  sight. 
Miss  Noreen  creep  across  to  that  nearest  window  and 
take  a  glance  out  —  be  careful  that  no  one  sees  you. 
I'll  keep  guard  over  our  preacher  friend." 

She  left  us  quietly,  crouching  close  against  the 
wall,  until  she  could  safely  peer  out  from  behind  the 
fold  of  a  chintz  curtain.  This  so  shadowed  her  face 
that  I  could  distinguish  merely  its  dim  outline.  The 
glow  from  without  reddened  the  entire  room.  Nichols 
began  to  groan,  and  mutter,  but  whether  the  words 


Waiting  the  Next  Move  159 

were  those  of  prayer,  or  not,  I  was  uncertain.  That 
the  fellow's  brain  tottered  on  the  brink  of  total 
collapse  was  evident,  and  I  was  too  fearful  he  might 
create  alarm  to  desert  my  guard.  Eager  to  learn 
what  had  occurred  I  called  across  to  the  girl : 

"  Is  it  the  stable,  Miss  Noreen?  " 

"  Yes,"  with  a  quick  glance  backward.  "  The 
whole  west  end  is  ablaze ;  I  think  it  was  fired  in  two 
places." 

"  Do  you  see  anything  of  the  men'?  " 

"  Not  clearly,  except  two  or  three  passing  back  and 
forth  between  the  house  and  the  stable.  I  think 
there  are  horses  picketed  beyond  in  the  orchard,  but 
am  not  sure  —  yes,  there  are  men  there  with  them. 
The  fire,  as  it  blazes  up,  gives  me  a  better  view." 

"  Can  you  tell  how  many?  " 

"  No  —  they  form  merely  a  shadow  under  the 
trees  where  the  light  streams;  occasionally  one  moves, 
and  stands  out  separate  enough  to  reveal  himself  as 
a  man.  I  cannot  really  tell  anything  about  them  — 
but  —  but  I  didn't  suppose  Anse  Cowan  had  so  many 
with  him,  did  you?  " 

"  Why,  really  I  cannot  tell,  for  I  have  no  con- 
ception either  way.  There  must  have  been  a  dozen 
altogether  in  the  house,  and  doubtless  others  were 
on  guard  without.  Hasn't  it  ceased  storming?  " 

"Yes;  I  wonder  what  time  it  is;  why  I  actually 


160  The  Red  Mist 


believe  the  sky  is  becoming  lighter  in  the  east  al- 
ready." 

She  stared  out  intently,  and  then  sank  to  her  knees. 

"  Come  over  here  quick !  they  are  getting  ready 
for  something." 

I  swept  my  eyes  over  Nichols,  who  lay  motion- 
less, his  arms  folded  across  his  face.  To  my  mind 
the  fellow  was  acting  a  part,  and  was  not  half  as 
badly  injured  as  he  pretended  to  be.  However,  he 
could  do  us  no  great  harm  at  present,  and  I  stole 
silently  across  the  room,  and  knelt  beside  her.  She 
held  the  curtain  aside,  leaving  just  space  enough 
for  my  eyes.  For  an  instant  the  glow  of  the  burning 
building  blinded  me,  and  intensified  the  surrounding 
darkness.  I  shadowed  my  eyes  with  my  hand. 

"  Where  are  the  men  you  saw?    To  the  left*?  " 

"  Yes  —  back  under  the  trees,  close  to  the  first 
negro  cabin;  see!  just  where  I  point." 

Once  located  I  could  perceive  the  shadowy  out- 
line, which  grew  more  distinct  as  I  gazed.  There 
were  men  there  beyond  doubt;  it  seemed  to  me 
twenty  or  thirty,  although  it  was  impossible  to  judge 
the  number.  But  the  shadow  seemed  to  be  disin- 
tegrating. Even  as  my  eyes  focused  it,  a  section 
moved  to  the  right,  and  then  another  swung  into 
the  open,  circling  along  the  orchard  fence. 

"  There  is  a  slew  of  them,"  I  muttered  unthink- 


Waiting  the  Next  Move  161 

ingly.     "  Anse  meant  to  have  company  at  his  wed- 
ding." 

"  Oh,  hush !  "  her  hand  caught  my  sleeve.    "  They 
—  they  are  coming  back  to  the  house  now." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

A    MARRIAGE    BY   DURESS 

HE  girl  was  evidently  right,  although  the 
path  the  party  followed  swung  so  far 
to  the  left  I  could  see  little  of  them 
from  the  window.  The  fence  concealed 
their  number,  but  there  was  a  dozen,  at  least,  and 
they  moved  steadily,  the  red  flames  gleaming  on 
what  I  took  to  be  gun  barrels.  They  disappeared 
behind  a  low  shed,  merging  almost  mysteriously  in 
its  shadow.  I  heard  no  orders  given,  no  sound  of  a 
voice.  The  silently  moving  figures  seemed  more 
like  specters  than  men.  As  I  strove  vainly  to  dis- 
cover where  they  had  vanished  I  perceived  the  faint 
tinge  of  gray  across  the  eastern  sky.  Daylight  was 
coming;  the  gang  meant  to  search  the  house  again, 
perhaps  fire  it  as  they  had  the  stable,  and  then  ride 
away  before  the  Federal  garrison  at  Lewisburg  could 
receive  the  alarm.  The  light  of  the  fire  would  cer- 
tainly be  perceived  there  by  the  sentries,  and  re- 
ported. Perhaps  already  the  troopers  were  in  their 
saddles  —  but  they  would  be  too  late.  I  turned 
away  from  the  window  to  perceive  Nichols  sitting 
up  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 

162 


A  Marriage  by  Duress  163 

"What's  afire?"  he  asked. 

"  The  stable,"  I  answered  crossing  the  room, 
"  and,  as  near  as  I  can  make  out  the  whole  gang  is 
headed  back  this  way  to  finish  their  job.  Get  down 
in  the  corner,  where  you  cannot  be  seen  from  the 
windows.  Oh,  yes  you  can;  you  are  not  so  badly 
hurt.  Miss  Noreen." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  came  to  where  I  was 
standing,  gliding  swiftly  along  in  the  shadow  of 
the  wall.  The  light  of  the  blazing  stable  illumined 
the  face  upturned  questioningly  to  mine. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  those  men  will  do1?  " 

"  That  is  all  guesswork.  The  firing  of  the  stable 
may  have  been  an  accident;  but  if  it  was  done  pur- 
posely then  I  believe  they  will  also  apply  a  torch 
to  the  house  before  they  leave.  But  I  am  not  so 
afraid  of  that,  as  I  imagine  the  cowards  will  ride 
away  so  soon  as  they  are  assured  the  fire  is  well 
started.  They  will  fear  the  approach  of  soldiers 
from  Lewisburg.  Of  what  does  that  garrison  con- 
sist? " 

"  Two  troops  of  cavalry  —  but  what  is  it  you 
most  fear?  " 

"  That  the  search  without  has  convinced  Cowan 
that  we  are  still  hidden  in  the  house.  Anything 
else  is  preferable  to  having  you  fall  into  the  hands 
of  that  villain.  He  came  here  with  one  object  in 


164  The  Red  Mist 

view;  and  will  not  give  up  while  there  is  a  hope 
left.  Is  there  any  other  place  better  than  this  in 
which  to  hide*?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Well,  then  we  must  fight  it  out  here  if  they 
come ;  you  have  your  revolver  —  ah !  the  squad  is 
already  below;  listen!" 

We  stood  side  by  side,  scarcely  breathing,  close 
to  the  bolted  door.  The  flames  of  the  burning  stable 
were  dying  down,  yet  there  was  sufficient  light  to 
render  every  object  in  the  room  plainly  visible.  In- 
tent as  I  was  on  every  slight  sound  below  and  with- 
out, I  kept  my  eyes  on  Nichols,  seated  dejectedly  in 
one  corner.  Feet  tramped  noisily  back  and  forth 
in  the  lower  hall,  and  the  sound  of  voices  reached 
us,  the  words  indistinguishable.  There  was  an  echo 
of  splintered  wood,  the  crash  of  dishes,  and  a  loud 
laugh.  The  fellows  seemed  to  be  looting  the  kitchen 
and  pantry,  destroying  whatever  they  could  not  use. 
Suddenly  there  arose  a  sound  of  smashing  glass  at 
the  front  of  the  house,  and  the  tinkling  of  a  piano 
as  if  some  rough  hand  swept  across  the  keys.  Noreen 
pressed  closer,  lifting  her  eyes  in  appeal. 

"  They  —  they  are  searching  the  house,"  she 
whispered,  her  voice  shaking,  "  and  —  looting  it. 
Do  you  hear  that*?  they  are  even  tearing  the  carpet 
from  the  floor.  Some  of  them  will  come  up  here." 


A  Marriage  by  Duress  165 

"  I  am  afraid  so  —  but  you  must  not  lose  your 
nerve.  We  shall  have  to  fight !  " 

"Fight4?  yes;  but  what  use*?"  and  she  grasped 
my  arm  with  both  hands.  "  Why  —  why  they  are 
ten  to  one,  and  there  is  no  chance  for  us  to  outwit 
them.  Do  not  think  me  a  fool  or  a  hysterical  girl 

—  it  —  it  is  not  that !    I  —  I  would  not  be  so  afraid, 
only  for  that  man.     I  cannot  fall  into  his  power. 
I  will  kill  myself  first!     You  do  not  know  Anse 
Cowan;  but  I  do;  he  is  a  dirty,  foul,  cruel  dog;  I 
would  rather  die  than  have  his  hands  touch  me.     I 
hate  and  despise  him ;  he  is  an  incarnate  brute  —  and 

—  and  he  is  here  after  me !  " 

"  Hush,"  I  urged,  holding  her  tightly,  her  slight 
form  trembling.  "  Do  not  let  go  yet;  they  may 
not  even  come  up  the  stairs." 

"But  they  will,"  she  insisted.  "I  tell  you  I 
know  the  man.  He  —  he  swore  he  would  marry 
me  two  years  ago;  he  told  me  so,  and  I  laughed  at 
him.  He  stopped  my  father  on  the  road,  held  a 
rifle  to  his  head,  and  boasted  that  some  day  he  would 
make  me  pay  his  debts.  This  is  no  mere  incident 
of  war  —  it  is  revenge !  I  —  I  would  not  be 
frightened  but  for  that  —  that  awful  alternative. 
Tell  me  —  tell  me  what  to  do !  " 

She  stared  pleadingly  into  my  face,  but,  reading 
no  answer  there  to  her  wild  appeal,  sank  to  her  knees, 


166  The  Red  Mist 


and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  All  that  was 
strong  about  the  girl  seemed  swept  away  by  sud- 
den, uncontrollable  terror  —  by  dread  of  Anse 
Cowan.  While  there  appeared  to  be  some  hope  of 
escape  her  courage  had  sustained  her,  but  now,  all 
at  once,  it  gave  way  entirely,  leaving  her  in  a  perfect 
panic  of  fear.  I  realized  fully  the  nature  of  this 
threat  which  had  broken  her  spirit.  She  was  no  less 
womanly,  no  less  worthy  respect  and  love,  in  her 
shrinking  of  terror.  It  was  not  death  she  dreaded, 
nor  any  physical  danger  —  it  was  dishonor ;  the  con- 
taminating touch  of  a  brutal  hand,  the  foul  insult  of 
a  dirty  cur.  But  what  could  I  say?  What  could 
I  do"?  I  stood  helpless,  uncertain,  unable  even  to 
find  words  of  encouragement.  No  thought,  no  plan 
occurred  to  me  —  only  to  defend  her  while  I  lived. 
A  hoarse,  strange  voice  roared  out  an  order,  seem- 
ingly from  the  very  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"  That's  enough  of  that,  Samuels !  Here,  take 
your  men  up  above.  Be  lively  now,  and  don't  let  a 
rat  get  away." 

The  girl  lifted  her  head;  then  got  to  her  feet 
clinging  to  the  bed-post.  I  could  see  the  glitter  of 
a  pistol  in  her  hand.  A  thought  swept  through  my 
brain  —  so  daring,  so  reckless,  I  gasped  at  the  mere 
wildness  of  the  suggestion.  Yet  it  might  answer; 
it  might  succeed!  But  would  she  consent;  even  in 


A  Marriage  by  Duress  167 

her  desperation,  in  the  extreme  of  her  terror,  would 
she  grasp  at  such  a  straw*?  There  was  nothing  else 
—  not  another  chance.  This  might  not  be  one  — 
yet  it  would  surely  serve  to  delay;  it  would  place 
me  in  between  her  and  Anse  Cowan.  He  could  only 
reach  her  over  my  dead  body;  for  the  moment,  at 
least,  it  would  block  his  plan.  She  could  not  legally 
marry  him,  if  she  was  once  my  wife!  Of  course  the 
man  might  not  hesitate  in  his  mad  anger,  even  at 
murder  —  yet  again  it  was  possible  that  my  uniform 
would  save  me  —  the  troops  at  Lewisburg  were  not 
far  away;  fear  of  them  might  make  the  villain 
cautious.  It  was  a  chance  —  a  desperate,  reckless 
chance  —  and  no  more !  But  the  thought  —  crazy  as 
it  was  —  flashed  instantaneously  through  my  brain ; 
took  possession  of  me.  Only  the  girl  whose  eyes 
just  then  met  mine  — 

"I  —  I  have  thought  of  one  way,"  I  said  eagerly, 
the  words  coming  forth  almost  incoherent.  "  That 
is  if  you  will  listen  to  what  I  propose.  There  is 
nothing  else  feasible  so  far  as  I  can  see.  They  —  they 
are  in  the  front  rooms  now  —  hear  them !  We 
haven't  a  moment  to  lose.  Will  you  —  will  you 
consent  to  marry  me?  " 

She  shrank  back  a  step,  staring  at  me  with  wide- 
opened  eyes,  breathing  heavily. 

"Marry!    marry    you?"    she    faltered    wildly. 


168  The  Red  Mist 

"  Why  what  can  you  mean !  I  —  I  do  not  under- 
stand!" 

"  Of  course  not  —  the  conception  is  wild,  im- 
practical, perhaps.  It  must  seem  so  to  you  —  yet 
listen.  It  is  the  one  way  left  open  to  save  you  from 
Anse  Cowan.  You  can  trust  me  ?  You  do  trust  me, 
do  you  not*?  " 

"  Ye-es  —  but  —  " 

"  This  is  no  time  to  question.  They  are  coming 
here  now,  those  fellows  with  Anse  Cowan  at  their 
head.  You  know  what  for.  Whatever  the  real 
object  may  be  some  among  them  have  not  hesitated 
at  murder  for  its  attainment  —  they  will  not  spare 
you.  The  question  is  not  do  you  wish  to  marry  me ; 
but  do  you  trust  me  more  than  you  do  Anse  Cowan*? 
Do  you  hear  them  breaking  down  those  doors  at  the 
front  of  the  house?  There,  by  the  sound,  someone 
is  already  in  the  room  next  to  this.  Listen !  it  will 
be  a  form  only  —  I  am  not  conceited  enough  to 
believe  you  desire  me  for  your  husband.  But  you 
know  who  I  am;  you  have  confidence  in  my  honor, 
and  I  offer  you  this  opportunity  to  escape  from  that 
brute.  He  cannot  marry  you  if  you  are  already  my 
wife  —  " 

"  He  —  he  could  kill  you." 

"  Yes,  there  are  enough  of  them;  but  that  might 
happen  anyway.  No  doubt  it  would,  for  otherwise 


A  Marriage  by  Duress  169 

I  should  fight  to  the  end.  I  do  not  think  being  your 
husband  will  add  in  the  least  to  my  danger  —  and 
it  will  possibly,  legally,  protect  you." 

"  But  how  can  I<?    Will  it  be  legal4?" 

"  Noreen,  don't  stop  to  argue,  or  doubt,"  I  urged, 
grasping  her  hand  in  eagerness.  "  We  haven't  time. 
Listen  to  those  voices  in  the  hall !  Of  course  it  will 
be  legal  —  Nichols  is  an  ordained  minister,  and  no 
license  is  required.  I  shall  never  attempt  to  hold 
you,  Noreen,  and  any  court  will  set  you  free  the 
moment  you  tell  the  story.  The  one,  the  only  thing, 
for  you  to  consider  now,  is  escape  from  Anse  Cowan." 

"  You  do  this  to  —  to  save  me"?  " 

"  To  keep  you  from  falling  helplessly  into  the 
clutches  of  a  beast  —  tell  me  yes !  My  God,  girl, 
there  they  are  now  trying  the  door !  Answer  —  will 
you?  " 

"Yes  — yes,  Tom  Wyatt  — " 

With  one  leap  past  her  I  had  Nichols  by  the  collar, 
the  muzzle  of  my  revolver  at  his  head.  A  heavy 
foot  crashed  against  the  locked  door,  and  a  voice 
without  gave  utterance  to  an  oath. 

"  Marry  me  to  this  girl,"  I  commanded  sternly. 
"  Come  now,  not  a  word;  don't  wait  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion. Noreen,  take  my  hand  —  " 

"  Open  up  in  there  or  we'll  break  down  the  door !  " 
came  hoarsely  from  the  hallway. 


170  The  Red  Mist 

My  eyes  never  left  Nichols'  face.  What  he  read 
of  threat  I  know  not,  but  his  lips  began  to  stumble 
through  the  form,  though  I  could  scarcely  distinguish 
a  word.  His  face  was  gray  with  terror,  and  I  dare 
not  look  aside  at  the  silent  girl  —  only  I  vaguely 
realized  that  the  hand  held  in  mine  trembled,  and 
once,  when  she  had  to  speak,  the  two  words  uttered 
were  almost  a  sob. 

Never  surely  was  there  a  stranger  marriage  in 
all  the  world.  The  dying  embers  of  the  stable  fire 
shot  red  gleams  of  flame  over  us  through  the  un- 
shaded windows,  giving  to  Nichols  a  ghastly  look, 
and  glowing  on  the  steel  barrel  of  the  revolver  I  held 
poised  at  his  head.  His  voice  faltered  and  broke, 
and  clotted  blood  rendered  hideous  one  side  of  his 
face,  while  his  hands  shook  as  if  with  palsy.  All 
the  sneaking  coward  in  him  was  manifest.  Outside 
a  dozen  voices  roared,  one  rising  gruff  above  the 
others  shouting  orders.  Once  a  single  shot  crashed 
through  the  upper  panel  of  the  door  and  broke  the 
glass  of  a  window  opposite.  The  girl,  startled, 
reeled  against  me,  and  the  preacher  stopped,  gasping 
for  breath. 

"  No  firing,  you  fool ! "  roared  a  deep  voice 
angrily.  "  We  don't  want  any  dead  ones  —  beat 
down  the  door !  " 

"  Go  on !  "  I  ordered  grimly,  and  thrust  the  black 


A  Marriage  by  Duress  171 

muzzle  hard  against  his  cheek.  The  preacher  choked, 
but  the  usual  words  of  the  ritual  —  sounding  almost 
like  mockery  —  dropped  mechanically  from  his 
tongue. 

"  And  now  I  pronounce  you  man  and  wife,  and 
whom  God  hath  joined  together,  let  not  man  put 
asunder.  Amen." 

She  gave  vent  to  a  little  sobbing  cry,  half  stifled 
in  her  throat,  and  shrank  away  from  me.  I  knew 
that  her  face  was  buried  in  her  hands,  yet  had  no 
time  to  look  that  way,  or  utter  a  word.  Rifle  butts 
were  crashing  in  the  panels  of  the  door;  I  could 
perceive  already  dim  figures  revealed  through  the 
jagged  openings  made  in  the  light  wood,  a  vista  of 
faces,  a  gleam  of  weapons. 

"  Hit  lower  down !  "  yelled  the  same  gruff  voice 
of  command.  "  There  is  a  bolt  that  holds  fast  — 
reach  in  Saunders !  " 

"Get  back  —  beyond  the  bed,"  I  called,  push- 
ing her  behind  me,  and  bracing  myself  for  the  first 
shock.  The  door  gave,  sagging  aside  on  its  hinges, 
and  half  falling  inward,  and  through  the  opening 
men  tumbled  forward,  carbines  gripped  in  their 
hands.  The  red  light  gleamed  ghastly  across  their 
faces,  and  revealed  —  the  blue  uniform  of  Federal 
cavalry. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BEFORE    LIEUTENANT    RAYMOND 

HE  headlong  rush  stopped  in  startled 
amazement  at  sight  of  us,  and  I  stood 
there  staring  at  them,  unable  to  speak, 
my  revolver  lowered.  In  that  instant  of 
pause,  an  officer  thrust  the  men  aside  and  faced  me, 
sword  in  hand. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  sir*?  Who  are  you*?  " 
he  questioned,  sweeping  his  glance  over  my  uniform, 
and  then  beyond  me  at  the  two  others. 

"  I  would  ask  the  same  question,"  I  returned,  not 
yet  assured  as  to  who  I  confronted,  and  suspecting 
some  trick.  "  We  believed  ourselves  attacked  by 
guerrillas.  Are  you  soldiers?  " 

"  Well,  rather,"  with  a  short,  grim  laugh. 
"  These  are  Pennsylvania  cavalrymen.  My  name 
is  Raymond,  and  I  demand  to  know,  first  of  all, 
where  you  got  possession  of  that  Third  U.  S.  Cav- 
alry uniform." 

Perhaps  in  his  excitement  he  had  not  really  rec- 
ognized her  before;  but  these  words  were  scarcely 
out  of  his  mouth  when  the  lady  stood  beside  me, 
facing  him.  I  caught  one  swift  flash  of  her  eyes  as 

172 


Before  Lieutenant  Raymond          173 

though  warning  me  to  silence.  Whatever  of  fear 
she  had  formerly  felt  seemed  to  have  left  her  in  this 
crisis,  for  she  stood  erect,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her 
eyes  frankly  meeting  those  of  the  surprised  officer. 

"  You  will,  however,  recognize  me,  Lieutenant," 
she  said  pleasantly,  and  extended  her  hand,  "  and, 
if  you  will  listen,  I  think  I  can  clear  up  the  mystery." 

"  Miss  —  Miss  Harwood,"  he  murmured  slightly 
embarrassed,  but  still  belligerent,  his  glance  wan- 
dering from  her  face  to  mine.  "  Certainly  —  we 
hoped  to  find  you  here.  It  was  to  rescue  you  we 
came  —  at  least  it  was  that  hope  which  led  me  to 
request  the  sending  of  troops,  and  to  accompany 
them.  This  outrage  has  been  committed,  I  believe, 
by  Cowan's  gang,  and  this  man  here  —  " 

"  Is  my  friend,"  she  interrupted  quietly.  "  Lieu- 
tenant Raymond,  if  you  will  kindly  order  your  men 
to  retire,  I  will  gladly  explain  his  presence  in  the 
house." 

"  You  wish  to  speak  to  me  alone?  " 

"Not  necessarily;  but  I  certainly  prefer  greater 
privacy  than  this.  You  are  in  command'?  " 

"  No ;  Captain  Whitlock  is  below."  He  turned 
toward  the  crowd  blocking  the  doorway,  and  I 
grasped  the  opportunity  to  breathe  a  hasty  word  of 
warning  into  the  ear  of  Nichols.  The  girl  never 
glanced  again  at  either  of  us. 


174  The  Red  Mist 


"  Take  the  men  back  into  the  hall,  Sergeant,"  the 
Lieutenant  ordered,  "  and  look  through  whatever 
rooms  have  not  been  visited.  Request  Captain  Whit- 
lock  to  join  me  here." 

We  waited  motionless,  the  lieutenant's  hand  on 
the  butt  of  his  revolver,  as  though  he  half  suspicioned 
treachery.  Twice  he  endeavored  to  open  conversa- 
tion with  the  lady,  but  her  response  was  not  encour- 
aging, and  he  evidently  did  not  feel  safe  except  with 
his  eyes  on  me.  The  sight  of  the  uniform  I  wore 
perplexed  and  angered  him;  he  would  have  greatly 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  going  for  me  rough-shod, 
and  was  restrained  only  by  the  presence  of  the  lady. 
She  stood  quietly  between  us,  her  lips  firmly  set,  and 
I  thought  was  struggling  to  retain  control  of  herself, 
and  grasp  quickly  some  explanation  of  my  presence. 
I  could  perceive  only  the  contour  of  her  face,  but 
Raymond  fronted  me,  a  tall,  well  proportioned  fel- 
low, with  incipient  mustache,  black  and  curled  at 
the  points;  a  rather  long  face,  and  eyes  sternly  seri- 
ous. There  was  about  him  an  appearance  of  force 
—  a  bit  of  a  bully  I  should  say  —  and  his  uniform 
was  new,  and  carefully  fitted. 

A  man  stood  in  the  doorway,  bowing,  his  mild 
blue  eyes  surveying  us  nervously.  He  sported  a  light 
beard,  closely  trimmed,  the  top  of  his  head  scarcely 
reaching  to  the  lieutenant's  shoulder.  Miss  Noreen 


Before  Lieutenant  Raymond  175 

greeted  him  with  a  welcoming  smile,  and  he  stepped 
gallantly  forward,  bending  low  as  he  accepted  her 
hand. 

"  So  pleased,  so  delighted,  Miss  Harwood  to  find 
you  safe  and  well.  We  were,  indeed,  greatly  wor- 
ried at  the  thought  of  your  being  here  alone,"  he 
exclaimed,  a  slight  lisp  in  his  voice.  "  You  have 
not  suffered,  I  trust?  " 

"  Not  seriously,  Captain  Whitlock;  the  guerrillas 
were  outwitted  —  " 

"  Ah !  do  not  attempt  to  explain,  I  beg.  We 
understand  what  you  have  pas^d  through,  as  we 
have  captured  two  of  the  villains.  You  sent  for 
me,  Lieutenant  Raymond?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  did,"  the  younger  officer's  expression 
exhibiting  clearly  the  contempt  he  felt  for  his  su- 
perior. "  I  preferred  that  you  decide  what  shall 
be  done  with  this  fellow,"  pointing  a  finger  at  me. 
"  Miss  Harwood  vouches  for  him,  but  I  fail  to  un- 
derstand how  he  comes  to  be  in  the  uniform  of  my 
regiment." 

The  captain  fitted  a  pair  of  glasses  to  his  eyes  and 
surveyed  me  with  care. 

"  Why,  bless  me,  so  he  is,"  he  ejaculated,  "  and 
you  never  saw  him  before?  " 

"  No,  and  there  is  not  another  third  U.  S.  cav- 
alryman west  of  the  Alleghanies." 


176  The  Red  Mist 

The  girl  laughed,  and  laid  her  hand  on  Whit- 
lock's  arm. 

"  I  told  Lieutenant  Raymond  that  I  would  ex- 
plain fully,"  she  said,  pretending  to  be  amused. 
"  But  I  failed  to  understand  then  what  it  was  which 
had  so  aroused  his  suspicion.  So  it  is  the  uniform 
my  friend  wears?" 

Raymond  did  not  answer,  but  the  captain  bowed 
respectfully. 

"  As  to  that  I  must,  assume  all  responsibility," 
she  went  on  quietly,  "  as  I  furnished  it." 

"  You !  "  there  was  a  sarcastic  sneer  in  the  lieu- 
tenant's surprise  exclamation.  "  Why  should  you 
have  in  your  possession  a  uniform  of  the  Third  Reg- 
ulars?" 

"  I  did  not,"  she  answered  sweetly,  but  looking 
at  Whitlock.  "  That  uniform  belonged  to  my  cousin, 
an  officer  of  the  Third  Kentucky." 

Raymond  uttered  a  smothered  expression,  stared 
an  instant  at  her  slightly  averted  face,  and  then, 
with  one  stride  forward,  swung  me  to  the  light. 

"  See  here,  Captain  Whitlock,"  he  exclaimed  in- 
dignantly. "  I  cannot  conceive  what  object  Miss 
Harwood  may  have  in  desiring  to  protect  this  man, 
but  this  is  not  the  uniform  of  any  volunteer  regi- 
ment." 

"  Do  I  understand,  Lieutenant,  that  you  dare  ques- 


Before  Lieutenant  Raymond  177 

tion  my  word?  "  she  asked  proudly,  her  eyes  gazing 
straight  into  his.  "  I  am  unaccustomed,  sir,  to  such 
treatment." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Raymond,"  broke  in  the  cap- 
tain. "  There  is  no  doubt  of  Miss  Harwood's  loy- 
alty. Let  us  hear  her  explanation  first.  You  say, 
Miss  Harwood,  you  know  this  man*?  that  he  is  a 
friend?  May  I  ask  his  name?  " 

"  Surely;  I  only  desire  an  opportunity  to  answer 
any  question.  He  is  Thomas  Wyatt,  the  son  of 
the  late  Judge  Wyatt,  whose  home  was  on  the  ridge 
yonder.  We  were  children  together." 

"A  rebel?" 

"  Really  I  never  thought  to  ask,"  carelessly.  "  I 
was  too  glad  to  have  his  protection.  We  —  we  spoke 
only  of  our  childhood  days  together,  still  I  gathered 
the  impression  that  Mr.  Wyatt  had  never  joined 
either  side,  and  was  merely  here  to  look  after  his 
property.  Of  course  he  can  explain  all  that." 

"  But  how  came  he  to  be  dressed  in  that  uni- 
form? "  burst  in  Raymond. 

"  Will  you  be  courteous  enough  to  permit  me  to 
tell  you?  I  have  endeavored  twice  already  to  fully 
explain.  Mr.  Wyatt  came  here  in  midst  of  the 
storm  last  night.  He  had  found  his  own  home 
destroyed,  and  this  was  the  nearest  shelter  to  be 
found.  He  supposed  the  house  deserted,  and  merely 


178  The  Red  Mist 


sought  protection  until  morning.  How  I  chanced  to 
be  here  you  gentlemen  both  know,  and  that  matter 
requires  no  explanation.  Mr.  Wyatt  arrived  with 
his  clothing  muddy,  and  soaked  with  rain.  I  gave 
him  the  only  change  to  be  found  in  the  house  —  a 
uniform  belonging  originally  to  a  cousin  of  mine, 
Lieutenant  Anton  Harwood,  Third  Kentucky  Cav- 
alry." 

"  But  this  is  not  the  uniform  worn  by  volunteer 
troops.  Captain  Whitlock,  I  insist  —  " 

"  Really,  Lieutenant  Raymond,"  the  girl  said, 
fronting  him,  her  eyes  sparkling,  "  this  is  becoming 
most  tiresome.  What  do  I  care  what  uniform  it  is ! 
I  have  told  you  where  it  came  from,  how  it  chanced 
to  be  there,  and  the  reason  it  was  worn  by  this  man. 
I  cannot  be  expected  to  know  all  the  petty  distinc- 
tions of  the  service." 

"  But  surely,"  spoke  up  the  captain,  plainly  be- 
wildered, "  the  suit  he  wore  when  he  came  can  be 
produced.  You  know  where  that  is*?  " 

"  I  know  where  it  was,"  she  answered  coolly. 
"  Hanging  before  the  fireplace  in  the  dining-room. 
However  I  cannot  guarantee  that  it  remains  there 
now  —  this  house  has  been  gutted  by  Cowan's 
guerrillas,  and,  from  the  sound,  your  own  men  were 
none  too  careful." 

Whitlock  fiddled  with  the  tassel  of  his  sword, 


Before  Lieutenant  Raymond  179 

evidently  far  from  satisfied  himself,  yet  unwilling  to 
make  final  decision  unaided. 

"  I  hardly  know  just  what  to  do,"  he  confessed 
reluctantly.  "  Ordinarily,  you  know,  a  lady's  word 
would  be  sufficient,  but  somehow,  I  —  I  —  well  this 
looks  just  a  little  queer.  What  do  you  think,  Lieu- 
tenant?" 

"  That  the  fellow  ought  to  be  taken  before  Major 
Hawes,  and  made  to  explain  what  purpose  brought 
him  here.  I  have  no  desire  to  question  Miss  Har- 
wood;  indeed,  I  am  perfectly  willing  to  accept  her 
statement.  But  this  man  is  not  a  civilian  —  he  is  a 
soldier;  he  has  had  military  training.  He  should 
be  made  to  account  for  himself,  sir."  The  speaker's 
eyes  fell  upon  the  preacher,  huddled  back  in  the  cor- 
ner, now  clearly  revealed  by  the  gray  daylight  which 
was  stealing  in  through  the  windows.  "  Hullo !  here 
seems  to  be  yet  another  specimen  we  have  over- 
looked. Who  are  you?  " 

Nichols  shuffled  forward,  looking  woe-begone  and 
miserable,  his  cheek  disfigured  by  Cowan's  blow, 
sneak  and  coward  written  all  over  him.  His  shifting 
eyes  met  mine,  and  he  must  have  read  in  my  gaze  a 
threat  he  dare  not  ignore.  Twice  his  mouth  opened 
and  closed  before  he  could  make  words  issue. 

"  One  of  Cowan's  gang?  " 

"  God   be   praised  —  no.      Made   to   serve   that 


180  The  Red  Mist 


human  fiend  by  force.  I  am  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel." 

"  You!  "  the  lieutenant  burst  into  a  laugh.  "  By 
Jove,  you  fit  the  part.  Whitlock,  did  you  ever  hear 
of  the  fellow?" 

The  captain  rubbed  his  glasses. 

"  Are  you  the  Baptist  preacher  at  Cane  Ridge"?  " 
he  asked  doubtfully. 

"  For  twenty  years  I  have  ministered  to  that  con- 
gregation; the  young  woman  can  vouch  for  my 
labor." 

"  Then,  I  presume  you  are  also  acquainted  with 
this  fellow*?  "  questioned  Raymond  impatiently. 

Nichols  turned  his  glance  again  in  my  direction, 
but  his  gray  face  was  devoid  of  interest. 

"  I  have  no  knowledge  of  the  young  man,"  he 
asserted  solemnly,  "  but  I  knew  the  old  Judge  well. 
The  resemblance  is  strong,  and  I  have  no  doubt  but 
he  is  a  son.  The  father  was  a  Christian,  and  a  gen- 
tleman." 

"  And  a  rebel,  I  presume*?  " 

"  Judge  Wyatt  died  before  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war,  sir,  but  was  known  throughout  these  parts  as  a 
Unionist." 

There  was  a  silent  pause,  Whitlock  fumbling  at 
his  eye-glasses,  Raymond,  a  perplexed  frown  on  his 
face,  staring  first  at  Nichols,  and  then  at  me,  as 


Before  Lieutenant  Raymond  181 

though  more  than  half  convinced  he  was  being  made 
a  fool  of.  The  girl  had  seated  he'rself  in  a  chair,  and 
was  leaning  forward,  her  face  hidden.  The  lieuten- 
ant turned  and  strode  across  the  room,  glancing  out 
the  window ;  then  back  again. 

"  Well,  we  cannot  remain  here  discussing  the  mat- 
ter," he  said  tartly.  "  If  we  do  we  may  have  a  real 
fight  on  our  hands  before  we  are  safely  back  in  Lewis- 
burg."  He  planted  himself  squarely  in  front  of  me. 
"  See  here,  it  is  time  you  did  some  talking.  You 
haven't  opened  your  mouth  yet." 

"  There  has  been  no  occasion,"  I  replied  pleas- 
antly. "  The  others  have  told  all  you  need  to  know 
without  my  even  being  questioned." 

"  I  have  a  mind  to  search  you,"  he  retorted,  com- 
pletely losing  his  temper. 

"  At  your  pleasure,  Lieutenant,"  I  spoke  coldly 
enough,  although  there  was  a  catch  in  my  throat  at 
sudden  memory  of  the  paper  I  bore  containing  his 
name.  "  And  there  is  no  guessing  what  you  might 
find  in  Lieutenant  Harwood's  uniform." 

We  were  still  looking  defiantly  at  each  other's 
eyes,  and  it  began  to  occur  to  me  that  his  evident 
dislike  must  have  some  other  basis  than  a  mere  sus- 
picion that  I  might  be  a  Confederate  spy.  Did  it 
arise  rather  because  of  my  apparent  friendliness  with 
Noreen  Harwood,  and  her  swift  words  of  defense4? 


182  The  Red  Mist 

Could  there  be  a  personal  motive  urging  this  young 
West  Pointer  to  determine  my  guilt*?  The  suspicion 
that  this  might  be  the  real  reason  for  his  conduct  had 
scarcely  flashed  across  my  mind  when  a  trooper 
appeared  in  the  open  doorway,  saluted,  and  said 
something  in  a  low  tone  to  Whitlock.  I  failed  to 
catch  the  words  spoken,  but  heard  the  captain 
answer : 

"  Certainly,  Corporal,  have  him  come  up  at  once." 
The  soldier  disappeared  down  the  hall,  and  the 
lieutenant  stepped  back  across  the  room,  bending 
his  head  to  whisper  something  privately  into  Whit- 
lock's  ear.  My  eyes  followed  his  movement,  and 
then  sought  the  face  of  the  girl;  she  sat  motionless, 
the  long  lashes  shading  her  eyes,  the  only  visible 
sign  of  excitement  the  swift  rise  and  fall  of  her 
bosom.  Then  a  man  came  hastily  into  the  room 
through  the  opened  door.  My  heart  leaped  into  my 
throat  at  sight  of  him  —  he  was  Captain  Fox. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  PRISONER 

HE  captain  was  hatless,  and  a  bloody 
handkerchief  was  wound  about  his  head ; 
his  uniform  was  torn  and  black  with 
mud.  He  saw  Whitlock  first,  and 
gripped  his  hand  warmly,  his  glance  straying  from 
the  face  of  the  little  captain  to  the  other  occupants 
of  the  room. 

"  Gad,  but  it  is  good  to  see  a  blue  uniform  again," 
he  exclaimed  heartily.  What  was  the  row  here, 
Fred  —  some  guerrilla  work?  Ah!  by  Jove!"  his 
eyes  brightening  as  he  recognized  me.  "  Raymond, 
I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,"  and  he  strode  forward, 
his  lips  smiling,  his  hand  held  out.  "  Old  Ned 
swore  to  me  you  were  dead,  but  the  sergeant  said  you 
got  away  at  the  first  rush.  Not  even  a  scratch  — 
hey  —  " 

"  Just  a  moment,  please,"  and  the  interested  lieu- 
tenant interrupted  him  by  a  hand  on  the  shoulder. 
"  I  believe  we  have  never  met  before,  but  I  presume 
you  are  Captain  Fox?  " 

The  latter  turned,  a  trifle  indignant  at  the  other's 
manner. 

183 


184  The  Red  Mist 

"  I  am;  what  of  it?  " 

"  Only  I  am  naturally  somewhat  interested  in 
your  identification  of  this  fellow.  To  us  he  has 
claimed  the  name  of  Wyatt,  but  you  address  him 
as  Raymond.  What  Raymond  did  he  represent  him- 
self to  be?" 

Fox  stared  about  in  surprise  at  the  faces  surround- 
ing him,  scarcely  able  to  collect  his  scattered  wits. 

"  Why,"  he  answered,  as  though  half  in  doubt  of 
his  own  words,  "  Lieutenant  Charles  H.  Raymond, 
Third  Cavalry,  on  recruiting  service.  I  —  I  met  him 
at  Hot  Springs,  and  he  showed  me  his  papers.  Isn't 
—  isn't  he  all  right?  " 

"  Well,  you  can  draw  your  own  conclusion," 
returned  the  lieutenant,  his  thin  lips  curled  in  a  sneer, 
"  for  I  am  Raymond,  Third  Cavalry.  This  man  is  a 
rebel  spy." 

Escape  was  impossible ;  I  knew  that,  for  I  had  con- 
sidered the  chances.  Both  Whitlock  and  the  lieu- 
tenant —  the  latter  with  revolver  drawn  —  stood 
between  me  and  the  windows.  The  hall  without  was 
thronged  with  troopers,  and,  although  I  might  attain 
the  open  door,  that  would  be  the  end  of  it.  I  saw 
Noreen  rise  to  her  feet,  her  startled  face  turned 
toward  me,  but  I  held  my  nerves  firm,  and  managed 
to  smile. 

"  I  expect  the  jig  is  up,  gentlemen,"  I  acknowl- 


A  Prisoner  185 

edged  quietly,  determined  they  should  get  as  little 
comfort  out  of  me  as  possible.  "  I  know  when  I  have 
played  my  last  card." 

"  Is  your  name  really  Wyatt*?  " 

"It  is;  I  am  a  sergeant  in  the  Staunton  Horse 
Artillery." 

"  And  Miss  Harwood  —  she  knew  you,  as  she 
said,  by  that  name*?  " 

"  She  did;  I  was  born  in  this  county,  and  we  were 
children  together.  If  she  has  attempted  to  protect 
me  from  arrest,  it  has  been  because  of  no  disloyalty, 
but  a  womanly  desire  to  assist  an  old  friend." 

Raymond  was  far  from  satisfied,  suspiciously 
glancing  from  my  face  to  where  she  stood,  white- 
lipped  and  silent. 

"There  is  nothing  else  between  you*?"  he  asked 
roughly.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  she  told  that  story 
of  her  cousin's  uniform  merely  because  of  a  girlhood 
friendship." 

"  I  am  unable  to  say,  sir." 

"  I  hardly  think,  Lieutenant,"  broke  in  Whitlock, 
suddenly  realizing  his  authority.  "  It  is  necessary  to 
ask  such  questions  now.  The  man  confesses  himself 
a  spy,  and  a  court-martial  will  probe  into  this  matter. 
We  must  remember  the  young  lady  is  the  daughter 
of  Major  Harwood." 

"  And  as  Major  Harwood' s  daughter,"  she  said 


186  The  Red  Mist 

gravely,  standing  before  me,  "  I  desire  to  be  heard, 
and  to  answer  this  gentleman's  question.  I  sought 
to  save  Sergeant  Wyatt  because  of  our  early  friend- 
ship, and  also  because  of  the  special  service  he  has 
rendered  me  during  the  past  night.  I  know  nothing 
of  his  purpose  here,  but  —  but  I  hold  him  friend 
whatever  may  be  his  uniform." 

The  lieutenant  bowed,  hat  in  hand. 

"  I  intended  no  criticism  of  your  motives,  but  a 
soldier  must  perform  his  duty.  Under  whose  orders 
are  you  here,  Wyatt?  " 

"  Those  of  General  Jackson,  sir." 

"  Ah !  the  old  fox  is  casting  his  eyes  this  way  for 
his  new  campaign.  What  were  your  orders'?" 

"  I  refuse  to  answer." 

"No?  Well,  Ramsay  will  get  a  reply  out  of 
you!" 

"  I  hardly  think  so,  sir.  You  hang  spies,  but  do 
not  torture  them." 

"  True  enough,"  and  Whitlock  stepped  to  the 
door.  "  Sergeant,  bring  a  file  of  men,  and  take  charge 
of  this  prisoner.  There  is  nothing  to  detain  us  longer. 
We  have  extra  horses,  Captain  Fox,  and  you  will 
ride  with  us  as  far  as  Lewisburg;  Miss  Harwood,  I 
presume  you  have  no  desire  to  remain  here  alone  — 
indeed,  I  could  not  permit  it.  Better  bind  the  fel- 
low's hands,  Harper;  search  him  first  for  weapons, 


A  Prisoner  187 

and  whatever  papers  he  may  carry.  Mount  him  on 
that  old  artillery  horse,  and  wait  for  us." 

Raymond  watched  the  proceedings  carefully,  tak- 
ing my  credentials  as  a  Federal  recruiting  officer  from 
the  hands  of  the  sergeant,  and  reading  them  over 
with  a  grim  smile.  I  gave  small  heed  to  the  glance 
of  satisfaction  with  which  he  regarded  me,  and  only 
ventured  to  look  once  toward  the  girl,  as  the  soldiers 
roughly  bound  my  hands.  She  had  turned  away,  and 
was  staring  out  of  the  open  window.  With  lips 
pressed  tightly  together  I  marched  out  into  the  hall 
closely  surrounded  by  the  guard,  my  thought  less 
concerned  with  my  own  fate  than  with  her  feeling 
toward  me.  Suddenly  the  truth  revealed  itself  to  my 
mind  that  I  loved  the  woman  I  had  so  strangely 
married. 

It  is  indeed  odd  how  the  human  mind  works,  and 
now  this  new  discovery  completely  eclipsed  every 
other  consideration.  The  thought  of  possible  escape, 
of  any  means  of  defense,  never  occurred  to  me.  All 
my  memory  retained  was  that  last  glimpse  of  her 
slender  figure  at  the  window,  and  the  silhouette  of  her 
averted  face.  What  was  her  thought  of  me*?  Why 
had  she  endeavored  so  bravely  to  open  a  way  for  my 
escape?  She  had  not  even  hesitated  at  quick  inven- 
tion at  falsehood  in  my  behalf,  fearlessly  facing  her 
questioners,  risking  her  very  reputation  in  hope  of 


188  The  Red  Mist 


protecting  me.  Could  it  have  been  merely  from  a 
sense  of  gratitude  for  the  small  service  I  had  rendered 
her"?  This  was  hard  to  conceive;  yet  it  was  even 
harder  to  convince  myself  that  she  really  cared  — 
that  her  swift  sacrifice  of  self  had  been  other  than  the 
impulse  of  a  moment.  Why,  really,  she  almost  had 
reason  to  hate  me  for  what  had  occurred.  I  had 
practically  forced  her  into  marriage,  needlessly,  use- 
lessly. She  might  even  be  justified  in  believing  I 
realized  the  truth,  and  was  guilty  of  a  cowardly 
deceit.  My  memory  of  her  in  the  past  was  that  of 
a  proud,  headstrong  girl,  possessing  a  quick  temper, 
careless  of  whom  she  hurt.  I  had  never  thought  she 
even  liked  me,  or  valued  my  friendship,  and  this 
adventure  was  far  more  liable  to  arouse  hatred  than 
affection.  She  was  of  a  nature  to  resent  the  unfair 
advantage  I  had  taken,  and  declare  war.  In  the  mo- 
ment of  her  first  surprise  she  had  sprung  to  my 
defense,  but  as  soon  as  she  could  consider  the  condi- 
tions, her  whole  nature  would  turn  against  me  — 
even  now  the  feeling  of  disgust  had  come.  She  had 
turned  coldly  away,  hating  the  very  sight  of  me  — 
staring  out  of  the  window  until  I  should  disappear, 
dreading  lest  I  prove  cur  enough  to  boast  of  our 
relationship.  Well,  the  lady  need  not  fear  that. 
Nichols  might  tell  the  story,  but  it  would  never  find 
utterance  on  my  lips.  And  it  would  soon  be  over 


A  Prisoner  189 

with,  blotted  out.  My  fate  would  be  swiftly  and 
surely  settled  —  a  drumhead  court-martial  at  Lewis- 
burg,  a  verdict  of  guilty,  arid  a  firing  squad  at 
dawn.  The  remedy  was  simple  and  effective.  No 
one  need  ever  know,  for  the  preacher's  lips  could  be 
easily  closed.  And  perhaps  Lieutenant  Raymond  — 
Bah!  my  teeth  clinched  angrily  at  thought  of  him, 
and  I  tramped  on  down  the  stairs  to  the  gruff  order 
of  the  sergeant. 

There  were  three  other  prisoners,  sallow  faced, 
roughly  dressed  mountaineers,  one  wounded  in  the 
arm,  but  I  was  kept  separated  from  them  with  a 
special  guard.  The  day  was  gloomy,  with  clouded 
skies,  and  the  road  so  muddy  the  horses  stood  fetlock 
deep.  Within  ten  minutes  the  entire  command  was 
in  saddle,  and  moving  slowly  northward.  The  lieu- 
tenant rode  in  my  rear  for  the  first  mile,  watchful 
and  suspicious;  I  could  hear  his  voice  issuing  orders, 
but  cared  nothing  as  to  what  precautions  were  taken. 
The  faint  hope  of  some  possible  escape  was  beginning 
to  dawn  on  my  mind,  but  I  realized  the  futility  of 
any  attempt  then  —  a  way  might  open  at  Lewisburg 
if  the  guards  grew  careless,  but  the  slow  moving 
horse  under  me,  limping  painfully  with  each  step, 
was  proof  positive  that  any  effort  made  now  to  break 
away  would  prove  utterly  useless.  Noreen  was  rid- 
ing in  advance  of  the  column  between  the  two 


190  The  Red  Mist 


captains.  A  gray  circular  cape  concealed  her  slender 
form,  but  I  could  observe  the  frequent  turning  of 
her  head  as  she  apparently  conversed  vivaciously 
with  her  attentive  escorts.  After  we  reached  the 
crossroads  Raymond  spurred  his  horse  forward  and 
joined  them,  evidently  convinced  that  my  guard  was 
sufficiently  vigilant,  although  he  stopped  in  passing 
to  test  the  knot  which  bound  my  hands  behind  the 
saddle.  It  was  an  insolent  act,  but  I  gave  no  out- 
ward sign  of  resentment,  not  even  glancing  aside  at 
his  face  as  he  finally  rode  on.  No  one  spoke  to  me, 
the  sergeant  gripping  my  rein  in  one  hand,  his  face 
as  expressionless  as  though  carved  from  stone.  Once 
I  asked  a  question  of  the  trooper  on  the  other  side  — 
a  rather  pleasant  faced  lad  —  but  he  only  shook  his 
head,  and  looked  away.  I  was  thus  driven  to  my 
own  solitary  thoughts,  and  they  were  far  from 
enjoyable. 

I  had  been  caught  red-handed,  within  the  enemy's 
lines,  dressed  in  Federal  uniform,  and  bearing  papers 
purporting  to  belong  to  Lieutenant  Raymond.  There 
was  no  defense  I  could  offer,  no  plea  for  mercy  I 
could  make.  The  court-martial  before  which  I  would 
be  brought  for  trial  would  be  merely  a  form  —  I  was 
condemned  already.  I  realized  all  this,  yet  the 
knowledge  of  my  desperate  condition  did  not  weigh 
on  my  mind  as  heavily  as  did  the  memory  of  my  rela- 


A  Prisoner  191 

tions  with  that  careless,  laughing  girl  riding  in  ad- 
vance. Could  she  be  acting  a  part1?  or  did  she  actu- 
ally feel  indifferent  to  my  fate"?  Surely  she  must 
know,  must  understand  the  conditions  of  my  arrest. 
She  was  a  soldier's  daughter,  and  had  seen  enough  of 
army  life  to  realize  the  treatment  given  a  captured 
spy.  Yet  the  fate  overhanging  me  apparently  made 
not  the  slightest  impression  upon  her.  She  had  never 
glanced  at  me  as  she  came  forth  from  the  house;  she 
had  passed  me  by  as  if  totally  unaware  of  my  exist- 
ence, and  now  I  could  hear  the  sound  of  her  laughter, 
as  she  chattered  unconcerned  with  her  three  com- 
panions. There  was  but  one  conclusion  possible  — 
she  really  cared  nothing.  She  had,  obeying  blindly 
the  first  impulse,  endeavored  to  protect  me  from 
arrest,  yet  even  that  effort  might  have  been  made  in 
fear  lest  I  announce  our  marriage.  But  now,  assured 
that  I  would  not  speak,  relieved  of  that  dread,  her 
only  remaining  desire  was  to  forget  me  utterly,  to 
blot  me  completely  from  her  memory. 

It  was  a  bitter  thought,  and  yet  no  other  was 
possible;  nothing  in  her  conduct,  in  the  echo  of  her 
laughing  words,  the  interest  she  exhibited  in  her  blue- 
coated  cavaliers,  led  me  to  any  other  conclusion. 
Perhaps  I  should  have  realized  that  such  light- 
heartedness  on  her  part  must  be  assumed,  for,  casting 
my  own  case  entirely  aside,  it  was  not  natural  that 


192  The  Red  Mist 

she  should  so  soon  forget  the  death  of  her  father.  It 
had  come  to  her  a  shock,  a  blow.  I  had  witnessed 
the  intense  suffering  in  her  face  at  her  earlier  realiza- 
tion of  the  truth.  She  could  not  have  forgotten  so 
suddenly,  so  completely ;  her  present  effort  to  appear 
light-hearted,  indifferent,  must  arise  from  some  spe- 
cial purpose  in  her  mind.  In  a  vague  way  this 
occurred  to  me,  but  prejudice,  doubt  of  her,  had 
assumed  possession  of  my  brain,  and  I  could  not 
grasp  the  probability  in  any  clearness.  Her  show 
of  utter,  heartless  indifference  hurt  and  blinded  me. 
I  actually  believed  the  girl  was  glad  of  my  capture ; 
that  she  rejoiced  at  the  knowledge  that  within  a  few 
hours  she  would  be  freed  from  all  the  consequences 
of  our  rash  act.  It  was  the  reaction  which  had  given 
her  such  high  spirits,  the  exhilarating  sense  of  escape, 
a  relief  so  profound  as  to  cause  her  to  even  forget 
her  father's  death.  This  was  the  conception  which 
took  possession  of  me,  obliterating  every  other  possi- 
bility. 

At  first  the  thought  served  to  numb  my  faculties, 
and  I  rode  forward  with  lowered  head,  all  interest 
in  life  dead  within  me.  Then  pride  came  to  the 
rescue,  and  I  straightened  up  in  the  saddle.  She  was 
my  wife  —  that  slender,  laughing  girl !  Of  course  I 
would  never  claim  her ;  no  word  would  ever  pass  my 
lips  to  bring  to  her  pain  and  humiliation.  No  one 


A  Prisoner  193 

would  ever  know  —  excepting  us  two.  But  if  I  did 
speak  she  could  not  deny,  and  she  must  realize  why 
I  had  kept  silent,  why  I  had  even  gone  down  to 
death  with  closed  lips.  She  could  not  be  a  woman 
and  fail  to  appreciate  such  a  sacrifice.  It  would  live 
in  her  memory;  she  would  think  of  me  as  not  alto- 
gether unworthy ;  she  would  know  some  time  this  was 
not  a  trick,  but  an  accident,  in  which  my  part  was  as 
innocent  as  her  own.  Resentment  would  die  out  in 
her  heart,  and  a  kindlier  feeling  creep  in.  And  then 
—  there  was  yet  a  chance !  While  there  was  life 
there  was  hope,  and  I  was  soldier  enough,  and  suffi- 
ciently reckless,  to  accept  of  any  opportunity.  There 
might  occur  a  relaxation  in  the  vigilance  of  the  guard, 
some  delay  at  Lewisburg,  possibly  a  forwarding  of 
me  to  headquarters  at  Charleston  —  some  sudden, 
unexpected  opening  through  which  I  could  squeeze. 
I  was  ready  enough  to  try,  however  desperate  the 
occasion;  and,  if  such  a  chance  did  serve,  the  end 
might  not  come  merely  with  escape.  I  could  see  her 
again ;  talk  with  her  face  to  face.  It  became  a  fasci- 
nating dream,  an  inspiration  —  at  last  a  grim  deter- 
mination. 

And  so  through  the  mud  we  rode  steadily  on,  fol- 
lowing the  pike  that  curved  along  the  base  of  the 
mountains,  and  finally  into  the  streets  of  Lewisburg. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

I  CHOOSE  DEATH 

KNEW  the  town  well,  and  few  changes 
had  occurred  since  last  I  walked  those 
streets  hand  in  hand  with  my  father.  It 
had  not  grown  any  larger,  and  thus  far 
the  war  had  wrought  little  damage,  although  many 
of  the  shops  were  closed,  and  occasionally  I  observed 
marks  of  fire.  The  majority  of  the  men  on  the  street 
were  in  uniform,  very  few  civilians  and  no  women 
being  visible,  although  I  caught  glimpses  of  curious 
faces  peering  at  us  through  closed  windows.  Lewis- 
burg  had  been  strongly  Southern  in  sentiment,  and 
doubtless  the  majority  of  her  male  population  were 
bearing  arms  in  the  Confederate  ranks,  or  had  taken 
to  the  mountains  in  guerrilla  warfare.  The  most  of 
life  in  the  sleepy  old  town  centered  about  the  Frost 
Hotel,  a  three-story  wooden  structure,  where  the  offi- 
cers of  the  garrison  lodged,  and  the  court  house,  a 
dignified  edifice  of  red  brick,  a  block  beyond,  where 
in  other  days  my  father  presided  on  the  bench,  now 
completely  surrounded  by  a  military  camp.  There 
were  more  Federal  soldiers  here  than  I  had  expected 
to  see,  but  a  remark  exchanged  between  two  of  my 

194 


/  Choose  Death  195 

guard  informed  me  that  most  of  these  had  arrived 
during  the  night  —  a  regiment  of  Ohio  troops,  and 
a  battery  of  light  artillery,  destined  to  assist  in  a 
contemplated  attack  on  Covington. 

The  head  of  our  little  column  halted  in  front  of 
the  hotel,  but  Whitlock  shouted  a  command  to  the 
sergeant,  and  we  rode  on  past,  the  guard  closing  up 
tightly.  I  kept  my  face  straight  ahead,  determined 
to  make  no  sign,  but,  nevertheless,  I  had  a  glimpse  of 
Noreen,  standing  at  her  horse's  head,  and,  for  an 
instant,  I  felt  certain  her  eyes  were  resting  on  me. 
Momentary  as  this  was  —  no  doubt  merely  a  glance 
of  curiosity  —  yet  it  served  to  send  the  hot  blood 
throbbing  through  my  veins.  That  was  the  first  faint 
sign  vouchsafed  me  that  she  even  recalled  my  exist- 
ence, or  gave  me  so  much  as  a  thought.  She  stood 
too  far  away  for  me  to  read  the  expression  in  her 
eyes,  and  yet,  the  very  fact  that  her  glance  followed 
me  brought  quick  response.  Then  Raymond  spoke 
to  her,  touching  her  sleeve  familiarly  with  his  hand 
to  attract  attention,  and  she  smiled  up  into  his  face, 
as  if  in  answer  to  some  witty  remark.  This  was  the 
last  glimpse  I  had  as  we  clattered  on  down  the  street. 

At  the  court  house  steps  the  sergeant  turned  me 
over  to  the  officer  of  the  day,  and  I  was  marched  into 
the  basement.  The  old  jail  had  evidently  been 
burned,  for  I  could  see  the  roof  had  fallen  in,  and 


196  The  Red  Mist 

the  stone  walls  were  blackened  with  smoke,  but  the 
lower  story  of  the  .court  house  was  bastile  enough, 
the  windows  barred,  the  walls  strong  and  thick.  The 
place  in  which  they  thrust  me  had  at  one  time  pro- 
tected the  county  records,  was  perhaps  nine  feet 
square,  with  one  narrow  window  high  up  in  the 
wall,  and  an  iron  door.  The  floor  and  walls  were 
of  stone,  and  the  ceiling  beyond  reach.  A  soldier 
threw  in  a  box,  to  be  utilized  as  a  seat,  together  with 
a  couple  of  blankets. 

"  There,  Johnny,"  he  said  carelessly,  "  I  guess 
you'll  stay  here  till  you're  wanted.  There'll  be  some 
grub  along  after  awhile." 

The  iron  door  clanged  behind  him,  and  I  heard 
the  sharp  click  of  a  heavy  lock,  then  regular  steps 
passing  back  and  forth  across  the  stone  floor,  proof 
that  a  sentinel  had  been  posted.  There  seemed  little 
need  of  one  as  I  sat  down  on  the  box,  and  stared 
disconsolately  about.  The  window  afforded  ample 
light,  but  no  hope  of  escape.  I  could  barely  reach  it 
with  my  hands  by  standing  on  the  box,  and  the  open- 
ing, even  if  the  iron  grating  could  be  removed,  was 
far  too  small  to  permit  the  passage  of  my  body.  I 
merely  glanced  at  the  patch  of  blue  sky  thus  revealed, 
and  then  permitted  my  eyes  to  wander  along  the 
solid  walls,  until  they  encountered  the  only  bit  of 
the  original  furnishings  of  this  underground  vault  — 


I  Choose  Death  197 

the  shelves  on  which  had  once  reposed  the  records  of 
Green  Briar  County.  They  were  of  iron,  as  a  safe- 
guard against  fire,  with  a  sheet  of  iron  at  their  back, 
concealing  the  wall  behind.  My  heart  gave  a  sudden 
leap;  perhaps,  after  all,  Fate  had  not  been  wholly 
unkind;  at  least  I  had  another  card  left  to  play,  and 
need  not  remain  hopelessly  staring  about  at  those 
bare,  solid  walls.  As  a  boy  I  had  played  about  this 
building,  invading  every  nook  and  corner.  I  could 
even  recall  when  those  shelves  were  first  installed, 
and  I  had  sat  almost  where  I  was  sitting  then,  and 
watched  the  workmen  bolt  them  into  their  present 
position.  That  seemed  a  long  while  ago  —  why,  I 
could  not  have  been  more  than  eight  or  nine  years  of 
age.  It  was  before  my  father  bought  the  place  out  on 
the  ridge,  and  we  were  living  only  a  block  down  the 
street.  This  old  courthouse  was  my  favorite  play- 
ground then,  and  I  had  explored  every  inch  of  it 
from  cupola  to  wood  cellar.  I  watched  those  work- 
men all  one  day,  and  the  memory  came  back  to  me 
that  those  shelves  rested  against  the  big  chimney, 
and  there  was  an  opening  leading  into  it,  across  which 
they  had  nailed  a  tin  protector  before  they  fastened 
the  iron  to  the  wall. 

If  I  could  once  get  in  behind  that  iron  plate  the 
way  out  would  not  be  such  a  hard  or  difficult  one  to 
travel.  The  chimney  was  large;  I  recalled  standing 


198  The  Red  Mist 


upright  in  the  fireplace  on  the  floor  above,  and  look- 
ing up  to  where  I  could  perceive  the  light  of  the 
sky.  It  was  constructed  of  irregular  bits  of  stone, 
which  would  afford  lodgment  for  the  feet,  and  grip 
for  the  hands,  in  climbing  —  no  easy  job,  of  course, 
but  not  impossible  for  one  reckless  enough  to  make 
the  attempt.  But  how  could  I  hope  to  pry  loose  that 
protecting  sheet  of  iron*?  Where  could  I  discover  a 
tool  to  give  me  the  necessary  leverage  to  dislodge 
those  bolts'?  Could  one  of  those  supports  be  un- 
screwed or  twisted  off?  If  so  it  might  prove  strong 
enough  for  the  purpose.  I  stepped  hastily  across, 
and  tested  two  of  them  with  my  hands,  but  found 
both  these  firm  and  immovable.  I  dare  not  exercise 
much  force  in  fear  the  noise  might  be  overheard,  and 
besides  it  was  time  the  jailer  brought  me  in  some 
food.  So  I  went  back  to  my  seat  on  the  box,  and 
waited,  my  eyes  on  the  iron,  and  my  mind  eagerly 
working  on  some  plan  which  seemed  feasible.  I  had 
a  half  dozen  keys  in  my  pocket,  and  a  broken  car- 
tridge shell  in  my  belt  —  nothing  else  available.  The 
searchers  had  stripped  me  clean.  A  careful  survey 
of  the  floor  revealed  only  a  twisted  nail,  but  there 
was  something  caught  in  the  iron  bars  of  the  window ; 
from  where  I  sat  it  looked  like  the  half  of  a  broken 
horseshoe.  I  got  up  to  see,  but  quickly  sat  down 
again  —  there  was  someone  at  the  door. 


I  Choose  Death  199 

It  opened,  and  a  soldier  stood  aside  while  two  men 
entered.  One  was  Fox,  the  other  a  heavy-set,  gray 
mustached  officer,  in  the  uniform  of  a  colonel  of 
infantry.  The  captain  greeted  me  gravely,  and 
extended  his  hand. 

"  I  would  far  rather  meet  you  as  I  did  before," 
he  said,  "  but  war  gives  us  no  choice." 

"  I  took  my  chances,  and  have  no  complaint,"  I 
answered  heartily,  for  I  liked  the  man.  "  I  presume 
there  is  no  doubt  as  to  my  fate*?  " 

"  I  fear  not,  but  the  matter  is  not  in  my  hands,  for 
which  I  am  grateful.  This  is  Colonel  Pickney,  in 
command." 

I  bowed,  and  our  eyes  met.  The  face  confronting 
me  was  strong  and  resolute,  its  expression  that  of 
regret. 

"  A  very  young  man,  Captain  Fox,"  he  said  to  his 
companion,  "  which  fact  adds  to  the  unpleasantness 
of  such  duty.  Your  name  is  Wyatt*?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  claim  connection  with  the  Confederate  serv- 
ice —  an  officer?  " 

"  A  sergeant  of  artillery,  sir." 

He  cleared  his  throat  impressively. 

"  You  have  the  appearance  of  an  intelligent  man, 
Sergeant  Wyatt,  and  must  realize  the  seriousness  of 
your  position.  I  am  sure  I  need  not  dwell  upon  the 


200  The  Red  Mist 


fate  which  befalls  a  spy  when  captured  by  the  enemy. 
In  your  case  there  seems  to  be  no  defense  possible  — 
you  wear  Federal  uniform;  were  within  our  lines, 
and  papers  have  been  found  on  you  of  a  most  incrimi- 
nating character.  It  is  my  understanding  you  make 
no  denial." 

"  None  whatever,  sir;  it  would  be  useless." 

"  You  have  no  reason  to  expect  mercy*?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Yet  there  is  always  a  way  in  which  mercy  can 
be  extended,"  he  went  on  earnestly.  "  Doubtless  you 
possess  information  which  would  be  of  the  utmost 
value  to  us.  I  shall  gladly  use  my  influence  on  your 
behalf  if  the  circumstances  warrant." 

"  You  mean,  of  course,  if  I  will  answer  such  ques- 
tion as  you  may  ask  me?  " 

"  That  is  my  meaning.  You  are  from  Jackson's 
headquarters?  " 

"  I  am  here  under  his  orders." 

"  The  probability  is,  then,  that  you  possess  knowl- 
edge of  the  utmost  value  to  us  —  worth,  let  me  say, 
the  sparing  of  life." 

I  glanced  aside  at  Fox,  and  caught  the  look  of 
appeal  in  his  face ;  then  back  into  the  expectant  eyes 
of  the  colonel. 

"  You  have  authority  to  make  me  this  proposi- 
tion? "  I  asked  quietly. 


I  Choose  Death  201 

"I  am  in  command  of  this  camp,  and  my  recom- 
mendation will  have  weight.  I  pledge  you  my 
influence  with  General  Ramsay." 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  to  know*?  " 

"  The  number  and  disposition  of  Jackson's  troops; 
where  they  are  at  present  stationed,  and  in  what 
force ;  and  any  inkling  you  may  have  as  to  his  imme- 
diate plans  of  campaign." 

"  And  in  return  for  this  information  you  guaran- 
tee me  release  from  arrest*?  " 

"  That  would  be  impossible,  Sergeant,"  and  he  laid 
his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "  We  shall  have  to  hold 
you  as  prisoner  of  war,  but  there  will  be  no  charge 
made  involving  the  death  penalty." 

I  stood  motionless  a  moment,  endeavoring  to 
straighten  the  matter  out  in  my  own  mind.  When  I 
spoke  it  was  as  briefly  as  possible. 

"  I  can  only  thank  you,  Colonel  Pickney,"  I  said 
quietly,  "  and  respectfully  decline.  I  am  a  soldier, 
and  loyal  to  my  flag;  I  accepted  the  chance  of  such 
a  situation  as  this  when  General  Jackson  requested 
my  services.  Even  at  the  cost  of  life  I  will  not 
answer  your  questions,  sir." 

"You  will  die  the  death  of  a  spy;  you  will  be 
hanged." 

"  That  is  as  God  wills,  sir;  the  threat  has  no  effect 
upon  me." 


202  The  Red  Mist 


Fox  gripped  my  arm,  and  as  I  glanced  at  him,  I 
was  surprised  to  see  a  mist  of  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  Wyatt,"  he  exclaimed,  making  no  pretense  at 
calmness,  "  do  not  be  hasty  in  your  decision.  I 
would  not  counsel  you  to  any  act  of  dishonor,  but 
surely  some  compromise  is  possible.  I  not  only  ask 
you  to  consider  the  situation  from  your  own  stand- 
point, but  also  from  ours.  I  accompanied  Colonel 
Pickney  in  the  hope  I  might  have  some  influence." 
He  hesitated  an  instant,  as  though  doubtful  of  his 
words.  "  Perhaps  I  should  say,  my  boy,  that  another 
urged  me  to  come." 

"  Another?  " 

"  Yes  —  a  lady." 

My  head  swam,  my  heart  beating  like  a  trip- 
hammer. 

"  Do  —  do  you  mean,  Captain  Fox,  that  she  ac- 
tually asked  you  to  urge  me  to  save  myself  by  such 
an  act?" 

"No,  Wyatt;  not  that.  She  requested  me  to 
accompany  Colonel  Pickney,  and  do  all  I  could  on 
your  behalf." 

I  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief,  my  mind  clearing, 
my  resolve  strengthened.  She  did  care  then !  God 
knew  I  was  glad;  and  she  had  not  urged  me  to  an 
act  of  dishonor.  And  I  knew,  I  understood  —  she 
wished  me  to  realize  that  she  was  not  indifferent  to 


I  Choose  Death  203 

my  fate,  that  her  interest  was  not  dead ;  and  she  had 
sent  the  message  to  me  by  the  only  man  she  could 
trust  to  rightly  deliver  it.  But  she  would  want  me  to 
decide  right,  for  it  was  not  in  the  character  of  Noreen 
Harwood  to  compromise  with  duty  —  better  to  die 
a  death  of  disgrace  than  to  live,  and  read  the  scorn  in 
her  eyes.  My  heart  lightened,  and  my  lips  smiled. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  message,  Captain  Fox,"  I 
said  sincerely,  clasping  his  hand.  "  Tell  her  how 
glad  it  made  me.  But  it  cannot  change  my  decision ; 
I  will  answer  no  questions." 

"This  is  your  final  reply,  Sergeant*?"  the  Col- 
onel's voice  had  hardened;  his  eyes  had  lost  their 
friendliness. 

"  It  is,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  then;  there  is  nothing  more  for  us  to 
accomplish  here,  Fox.  I  think,  young  man,  you  will 
come  to  your  senses  too  late.  Good  day,  sir." 

The  door  opened  to  the  rap  of  his  knuckles,  and  the 
two  men  passed  out,  neither  one  glancing  back  at  me. 
The  sentry  asked  a  question,  and  I  heard  Pickney 
answer : 

"  Yes,  set  the  food  within,  but  let  no  one  commu- 
nicate with  the  prisoner  except  on  my  written  order. 
I  will  have  another  sentry  posted  above." 

A  soldier  entered  bearing  a  camp  ration,  and  a 
pannikin  of  water,  and  placed  these  on  the  box.  He 


204  The  Red  Mist 

said  nothing,  and  the  colonel  stood  beside  the  door 
watching,  until  I  was  left  alone.  Then  the  iron  shut- 
ter closed,  and  I  heard  the  bar  which  secured  it  forced 
down  into  place.  As  I  stared  about  me  at  the  bare, 
solid  walls,  I  knew  that  I  was  already  condemned; 
that  the  court-martial  which  would  follow  would  be 
only  a  mere  form.  Yet  for  the  moment  this  knowl- 
edge scarcely  penetrated  my  consciousness  —  one 
thing  I  remembered,  her  message.  She  cared!  she 
would  serve  me  if  she  could!  Her  thought  of  me 
was  kindly !  I  put  the  food  on  the  floor  untouched, 
and  sat  down  on  the  box.  I  wanted  to  live;  I  was 
young,  ambitious,  and  —  I  loved  that  girl.  I  realized 
this  truth  clearly,  and  it  became  the  one  ceaseless 
incentive  to  effort.  Her  face  arose  before  me,  and  I 
felt  that  her  message  was  meant  for  my  encourage- 
ment. She  wanted  me  to  live;  wished  me  to  know 
that  she  was  not  indifferent;  trusted  me  to  accomplish 
all  that  a  man  could.  And  I  must  act  now,  if  at  all. 
The  time  allowed  me  was  short  —  how  short  I  could 
not  even  guess.  I  ate  the  food,  not  from  any  sense 
of  hunger,  but  because  I  needed  it  to  keep  up  my 
strength,  my  mind  ever  busy  with  the  problem. 
Would  they  give  me  a  few  hours  respite  —  opportu- 
nity to  reflect1?  If  so,  there  was  hope;  I  could  plan 
and  work,  with  some  faith  that  the  coming  night 
would  bring  me  a  chance  for  escape.  I  was  alone, 


/  Choose  Death  205 

unwatched;  there  was  no  place  where  an  eye  could 
peer  in  on  my  movements.  I  dragged  the  box  over 
to  the  window,  stood  on  it,  and  managed  to  dislodge 
the  bit  of  iron  entangled  in  the  grating.  It  proved 
to  be  part  of  a  discarded  horseshoe,  flung  there  care- 
lessly by  some  farrier,  and  contained  three  thin- 
headed  nails.  With  difficulty  I  loosened  one  of  these, 
and  fitted  the  sharp  edge  into  a  screwhead  of  a  shelf 
bracket.  The  nail  afforded  little  purchase,  and  I 
tried  three  of  the  screws  before  finding  one  loose 
enough  to  turn.  By  this  time  my  fingers  were  numb 
and  bleeding,  yet  the  final  success  set  my  heart  throb- 
bing with  exultation. 

The  removal  of  the  screw,  which  by  chance  was 
the  lower  one,  enabled  me  to  insert  the  remnant  of 
horseshoe  beneath  the  bracket  iron.  Slowly,  fearful 
of  creating  alarm,  this  improvised  lever  wrenched  the 
bracket  free,  until  I  was  enabled  to  get  firm  grip  on 
it  with  my  hands.  With  foot  braced,  and  every 
muscle  strained,  I  worked  that  bit  of  iron  back  and 
forth,  tearing  it  free,  until  I  knew  that  another 
wrench  would  separate  it  entirely  from  its  fastenings. 
Then  I  forced  it  back  into  place  again,  pressed  down 
the  loosened  screws,  carefully  gathered  together  the 
slight  debris  littering  the  floor,  and  cast  it  into  a 
dark  corner.  The  bracket  seemed  as  solid  as  ever. 
Now  I  must  wait  for  night. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

UNDER  DEATH   SENTENCE 


T  WAS  dreary  waiting,  for  every  unusual 
sound  reaching  me  brought  with  it  a 
throb  of  fear.  That  my  fate  was  already 
practically  settled  I  knew,  but  how  long 
the  delay  might  be  remained  a  problem.  All  I 
could  hope  for  was  that  final  action  might  be  post- 
poned until  the  morrow,  thus  giving  me  the  protec- 
tion of  the  night  in  which  to  put  my  plans  into  execu- 
tion. Again  and  again  I  reviewed  all  the  circum- 
stances, so  far  as  I  understood  them,  seeking  to  con- 
vince myself  that  this  time  would  be  permitted  me. 
Yet  it  was  all  guesswork,  and  I  doubted  my  own 
conclusions.  Colonel  Pickney  was  evidently  a  stern 
and  resolute  officer,  yet  with  a  kindly  expression  in 
his  face,  yielding  me  some  hope  of  delay.  He  would 
do  his  duty  undoubtedly,  but  was  not  a  man  to  take 
pleasure  in  the  execution  of  such  a  sentence  involving 
a  human  life.  He  would  naturally  postpone  the 
inevitable  as  long  as  possible,  in  the  hope  that  I 
might  change  my  mind,  or  that  some  conditions  might 
arise  to  relieve  him  of  the  unpleasant  responsibility. 
He  might  even  decide  the  matter  of  sufficient  import- 

206 


Under  Death  Sentence  207 

ance  to  send  me  to  headquarters  at  Charleston,  or 
hold  me  under  guard  to  await  the  arrival  of  some 
higher  officer.  Fox,  I  felt  convinced,  would  use  what- 
ever influence  he  possessed  to  delay  action,  and  there 
was  a  faint  hope  in  my  mind  also  that  Noreen  might 
even  make  a  plea  to  higher  authorities  in  my  behalf. 
I  dare  not  believe  she  would,  but  the  vague  dream 
of  such  a  thing  recurred  again  and  again  to  my  mind. 
Of  course  I  had  no  conception  that  her  thought 
centered  on  me,  or  that  there  was  any  depth  of  per- 
sonal feeling  in  the  slight  interest  she  had  already 
displayed  by  her  request  to  Captain  Fox.  This  was 
no  more  than  the  natural  expression  of  a  tender- 
hearted woman.  We  had  been  playmates  and 
friends;  this  fact  alone  was  sufficient  to  justify  an  ef- 
fort on  her  part  to  prevent  my  dying  an  ignominious 
death.  Besides,  my  capture  had  occurred  through  an 
attempt  to  serve  her.  This  was  her  plea  for  me,  and 
no  other;  this  was  the  excuse  with  which  she  justified 
her  interest  in  the  case.  The  fact  that  she  was  legally 
my  wife  was  to  be  kept  secret  —  was  to  be  forgotten 
forever,  if  possible.  At  first  she  had  been  frightened 
at  the  situation,  fearful  lest  I  urge  our  relationship  as 
an  excuse  for  being  with  her;  but  now  she  was  reas- 
sured by  my  silence.  Believing  the  secret  safe  in  my 
keeping  she  was  willing  to  venture  a  word  in  my 
behalf,  actuated  by  dictates  of  humanity. 


208  The  Red  Mist 


This  was  the  conclusion  to  which  I  came,  and, 
indeed  no  other  solution  appeared  probable.  But 
even  this  did  not  evidence  a  dislike  of  me,  a  desire  to 
punish,  or  a  deep  feeling  of  animosity.  This  knowl- 
edge alone  brought  me  a  real  comfort,  and  a  strength- 
ening of  courage.  I  listened  at  the  door,  my  ear 
pressed  against  the  iron,  distinguishing  the  tramp  of 
the  guard  in  the  corridor  without,  and  occasionally 
the  low  rumble  of  words,  as  though  there  were  two 
sentries  on  duty.  To  learn  all  I  could  I  dragged  the 
box  to  a  position  below  the  window,  and  standing 
on  it,  managed  to  gain  a  narrow  glimpse  without,  the 
vista  revealing  a  flap  of  dirty  tent  cloth  and  part  of 
an  army  wagon  backed  up  against  the  building,  leav- 
ing barely  enough  space  for  the  guard  to  pace  back 
and  forth  the  length  of  his  beat.  I  could  see  his  blue- 
clad  legs,  with  the  white  stripe,  cross  and  recross  in 
front  of  me.  I  tested  the  strength  of  the  iron  grating 
with  my  hands,  but  the  bars  were  firmly  imbedded 
and  immovable. 

The  afternoon  brought  me  two  visitors.  The  first 
was  an  infantry  captain,  quick  spoken  and  immacu- 
late of  dress,  who  merely  looked  me  over  much  as  an 
entomologist  might  examine  a  strange  bug,  com- 
manding me  to  stand  up,  and  turn  around,  so  as  to 
yield  view  of  my  profile.  From  certain  questions 
asked  I  supposed  him  endeavoring  to  identify  me 


Under  Death  Sentence  209 

with  some  suspicious  character  with  whom  he  had 
previously  come  in  contact.  What  conclusion  the 
man  reached,  or  what  report  he  made  to  Pickney,  I 
am  unable  to  say,  for  he  stalked  out  again  as  silently 
as  he  had  entered,  and  the  guard  banged  the  door 
shut.  The  sun  must  have  been  well  down  in  the  west 
when  Fox  returned.  I  had  been  expecting  him,  trust- 
ing to  his  friendly  interest,  and  with  a  fleeting  hope 
that  Noreen  might  commission  him  to  bring  me  some 
further  message.  Yet  the  moment  I  looked  into  his 
face,  shadowed  by  the  fading  light,  I  realized  that  he 
brought  no  encouraging  news.  My  heart  sank,  but 
I  kept  a  smile  on  my  lips. 

"  I  expected  to  be  out  of  here  before  now,"  I  said 
meaningly,  "  yet  I  judge  from  your  expression  there 
is  no  reprieve." 

"  And  no  hope  of  one,  Wyatt,"  he  answered  regret- 
fully. "  The  evidence  against  you  is  too  strong.  The 
delay  in  convening  a  court  has  been  caused  by  the 
scarcity  of  officers  in  camp.  Our  forage  trains  are 
just  beginning  to  return,  but  it  is  now  so  late  that 
Colonel  Pickney  has  decided  to  hold  you  prisoner 
until  morning.  I  waited  until  the  order  was  issued 
before  coming  here.  The  court-martial  is  set  for 
eight  o'clock." 

"  I  am  thankful  for  even  that  delay.  There  is,  I 
presume,  no  doubt  as  to  the  result1?  " 


210  The  Red  Mist 


"  None,  so  far  as  I  can  learn.  You  are  a  soldier, 
Wyatt,  and  may  as  well  face  the  truth.  I  have  urged 
mercy  on  Colonel  Pickney,  until  he  finally  ordered 
me  to  drop  the  subject.  He  is  a  strict  disciplinarian, 
a  bit  of  a  martinet,  indeed,  and  inclined  to  take  the 
advice  of  a  regular  army  officer  in  such  matters, 
rather  than  rely  on  volunteers.  Has  Raymond  any 
special  reason  to  dislike  you"?  " 

"  Only  that  I  impersonated  him  in  this  mas- 
querade." 

"  Bah !  that  was  mere  chance,  the  selection  of  his 
name  from  the  army  list.  The  fellow  is  naturally 
vindictive  enough,  but  surely  could  not  harbor  per- 
sonal dislike  over  so  small  a  matter."  He  paused 
hesitatingly,  as  though  doubtful  of  the  propriety  of 
pressing  an  inquiry.  "  I  trust  you  will  pardon  me, 
Wyatt,  but  I  have  wondered  if  there  was  not  some 
trouble  existing  between  you  relative  to  the  friend- 
ship of  Miss  Harwood." 

"  That  would  appear  impossible,"  I  replied,  some- 
what surprised,  "  for  my  being  with  her  was  entirely 
accidental." 

"Yes,  so  she  insists;  but  I  know  Raymond  is 
deeply  interested  in  the  girl.  Someone  told  me  he 
actually  proposed  to  her  at  West  Point,  and  sought 
this  detail  in  hope  of  meeting  her  again.  The  occur- 
rence which  aroused  my  suspicion  that  he  felt  a  per- 


Under  Death  Sentence  211 

sonal  grudge  against  you  was  this  —  I  know  he  prom- 
ised her  to  use  his  influence  to  have  you  sent  to 
Charleston  for  trial,  but  instead  he  urged  Colonel 
Pickney  to  exercise  his  own  authority.  I  chanced  to 
be  in  the  next  room,  and  overheard." 

"  You  told  her?  " 

"  No;  I  have  not  seen  the  young  lady  since.  It  is 
rather  a  delicate  matter  to  become  involved  in.  I 
felt  that  I  had  better  consult  with  you  first.  He  has 
not  been  here"?  " 

"  No." 

"  He  informed  Pickney  that  he  intended  to  come. 
He  apparently  desired  to  know  just  how  you  chanced 
to  assume  his  name,  and  procured  the  necessary  uni- 
form, but  I  thought  he  might  have  some  other 
object." 

My  mind  worked  rapidly.  That  Raymond  was 
treacherous  was  probably  true,  and  that,  whether  he 
actually  knew  it  or  not,  he  had  reason  to  suspicion 
my  relationship  with  the  lady  was  equally  a  fact. 
Yet  really  he  knew  nothing,  nor  was  it  my  privilege 
to  enlighten  him.  I  felt  no  pangs  of  jealousy,  for, 
from  what  little  I  had  observed,  Noreen  had  treated 
him  with  marked  coldness.  There  could  be  no  great 
degree  of  intimacy  between  them,  or  she  would  have 
chosen  him  in  this  emergency  rather  than  Captain 
Fox.  But  she  had  revealed  to  neither  officer  the  fact 


212  The  Red  Mist 

of  our  marriage ;  it  was  not  so  much  as  suspected 
and  it  would  be  treachery  on  my  part  to  even  whisper 
it  in  confidence.  Her  reticence  and  silence  were  suffi- 
cient to  close  my  lips,  for  it  would  not  serve  her  in 
any  way  for  me  to  reveal  the  story  to  Fox.  While  I 
liked  the  man,  and  had  abundant  confidence  in  his 
discretion,  yet,  if  I  was  destined  to  die,  the  secret 
had  better  perish  with  me,  while  if  I  did  escape,  she 
would  respect  me  the  more  if  I  thus  established  my 
purpose  of  protecting  her  from  the  gossip  of  the 
camp. 

"  How  is  it,  Wyatt?  "  he  asked,  as  I  failed  to 
speak.  "  Should  Miss  Harwood  be  informed  of  the 
lieutenant's  action1?  " 

"  By  no  means,  Captain.  If  the  man  exhibits  bit- 
terness toward  me,  it  can  have  no  bearing  upon  her. 
She  is  naturally  interested  in  saving  the  life  of  an 
old  playmate,  and  I  imagine  understands  pretty  well 
Raymond's  character,  without  your  information.  I 
doubt  if  she  really  trusted  the  fellow  even  when  she 
made  him  a  messenger." 

"  So  do  I,  for  later  she  went  herself." 

"To  Colonel  Pickney?" 

"  Yes,  an  hour  ago,  after  Raymond  returned  with 
his  report.  I  was  at  the  hotel,  and  saw  her  slip  out 
the  side  door,  with  a  shawl  thrown  over  her  head. 
The  lady  evidently  did  not  wish  to  be  seen,  and  had 


Under  Death  Sentence  213 

waited  until  the  lieutenant  had  gone  to  his  room. 
Colonel  Pickney  has  headquarters  in  the  big  stone 
house  opposite  the  court  yard  —  " 

"  The  old  Carter  place." 

"  Yes;  I  had  forgotten  you  knew  the  town.  It  can 
be  seen  from  the  hotel  porch,  and  I  had  the  curiosity 
to  watch.  She  was  inside  nearly  half  an  hour,  and 
returned  by  way  of  the  side  street.  Then  she  sent 
for  me." 

"  She  told  you  the  result  of  her  interview4?  " 

"  It  was  not  even  mentioned,  but  I  knew  she  had 
met  with  no  success.  She  seemed  distressed,  but  was 
anxious  that  you  should  know  at  once  the  seriousness 
of  your  position,  and  the  only  hope  of  escape  offered 
you." 

My  heart  was  beating  fiercely  at  this  direct  evi- 
dence of  her  interest  in  my  affairs.  She  had  even 
humbled  herself  to  beg  for  me  a  chance ;  perhaps,  to 
Colonel  Pickney  she  had  even  confessed  the  truth  in 
hope  of  changing  his  decision.  But  the  effort  had 
proven  useless;  he  had  named  terms,  which  she  evi- 
dently considered  unworthy. 

"  What  hope?  "  I  asked  coldly.  "  You  mean  the 
terms  offered  me  before?  " 

He  bowed  gravely,  but  without  speaking. 

"  And  did  Miss  Harwood  request  you  to  urge  my 
acceptance?  " 


214.  The  Red  Mist 

"  By  no  means.  Her  purpose  was  to  acquaint  you 
with  the  conditions,  to  relieve  your  suspense,  and  per- 
mit you  to  realize  her  friendliness.  I  was  to  tell  you 
this  frankly,  but  not  to  urge  any  decision  upon  you." 

"  And  I  thank  you,  Captain  Fox,  and  beg  you  to 
express  to  her  my  appreciation  of  her  kind  loyalty. 
Her  interest  has  brought  me  happiness  even  here. 
But  I  cannot  accept  the  terms  offered  by  Colonel 
Pickney.  I  will  give  him  no  information  relative  to 
General  Jackson's  command.  My  former  decision 
was  final.  My  life  is  of  small  account  in  this  strug- 
gle, and  its  preservation  would  be  no  excuse  for 
treachery." 

Fox  grasped  my  hand  firmly  in  both  his  own. 

"  I  am  glad  of  your  decision,  Wyatt,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly. "  I  had  no  doubt  of  what  it  would  be ;  nor  do 
I  think  she  had.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do?  Any 
comfort  I  can  add?  " 

"  Only  one ;  I  would  ask  of  Miss  Harwood  a  single 
favor.  It  is  that  she  write  my  mother  the  conditions 
of  my  death  —  a  woman  can  do  that  best." 

He  took  an  envelope  from  his  pocket,  and  a  pencil. 

"  How  should  such  a  letter  be  addressed?  " 

"  Mrs.  Margaret  Wyatt,  Goldsboro,  North  Caro- 
lina." 

"  I  can  promise  you  it  shall  be  done.  I  sincerely 
wish,  Wyatt,  we  had  met  under  pleasanter  circum- 


Under  Death  Sentence  215 

stances.  This  is  a  sad  ending  to  what  might  have 
been  a  lasting  friendship;  I  confess  I  have  learned  to 
like  you,  my  boy." 

"  And  I  you,  Captain  Fox,"  I  responded  earnestly, 
feeling  deeply  his  friendliness.  "  My  experiences  of 
war  have  not  made  me  bitter,  and  I  know  there  are 
real  men  on  both  sides.  I  am  simply  doing  my  duty, 
as  you  are  doing  yours,  and  there  is  no  enmity 
between  us.  And,"  in  spite  of  every  effort  at  control 
my  voice  faltered,  "  you  will  tell  Miss  Harwood  how 
much  her  message  of  kindness  meant  to  me." 

"  I  certainly  will,  my  lad  —  is  that  all?  It  may 
not  be  possible  for  me  to  come  again." 

"  There  is  nothing  else ;  Jackson  will  learn  the 
truth  through  other  sources  —  good-by,  and  may  God 
guard  you." 

"  Good-by." 

Our  hands  clung,  our  eyes  met,  and  then  he  turned 
away,  without  venturing  to  glance  back;  the  door 
closed  behind  him,  and  I  stood  staring  at  it  through 
blurred  vision.  I  was  still  standing  there  motionless 
when  the  iron  barrier  opened  again  a  few  inches,  and 
the  hand  of  a  soldier  pushed  a  tin  containing  food 
•along  the  floor. 

"  Here's  your  supper,  Johnny,"  growled  a  voice 
indistinctly,  "an'  I  guess  you  won't  be  bothered  any 
more  tonight." 


216  The  Red  Mist 

It  was  already  quite  dusk  in  the  cell,  but  outside 
the  grated  window  a  campfire  burned,  and  the  red 
glare  found  way  through  the  bars,  and  rendered  the 
interior  visible.  I  sat  on  the  box,  and  choked  down 
what  food  I  could,  endeavoring  to  drive  away  the 
feeling  of  depression  in  which  Fox  had  left  me.  I 
needed  now  strength  and  courage  to  front  the  one 
chance  left. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  ONE  PATH  OF  ESCAPE 

HERE  was  absolutely  nothing  for  me  to 
do  but  wait,  but  it  was  hard  to  judge 
time.  My  watch  had  been  taken  from 
me,  and  I  was  fearful  lest  I  choose  a 
wrong  hour  for  my  exploit.  The  noise  of  the  camp 
without  was  some  guide,  however,  but,  as  the  evening 
lengthened,  a  band  began  playing  overhead,  and  I 
could  hear  the  sound  of  feet  on  the  floor  above.  Evi- 
dently a  dance  was  in  progress  in  the  big  court  room, 
and  for  the  moment  my  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating 
in  a  sudden  fear  that  my  plan  of  escape  for  that  night 
was  blocked.  It  was  the  big  fireplace  opening  into 
this  room  through  which  I  had  hoped  to  emerge,  but 
I  could  never  accomplish  such  hope  amidst  of  those 
dancers.  And  they  might  keep  up  their  dancing  to  so 
late  an  hour  as  to  give  me  no  opportunity  before 
dawn  to  find  a  place  in  which  to  elude  search.  Yet 
the  noise  was  in  my  favor,  if  I  could  only  be  assured 
the  chimney  was  wide  enough  above  to  permit  of  my 
finally  reaching  the  roof.  Once  there  I  would  dis- 
cover a  way  down.  The  band  was  a  good  one,  and 
the  musicians  played  with  energy;  I  could  even 

217 


218  The  Red  Mist 

distinguish  the  tapping  of  the  leader's  foot  on  the 
floor  almost  directly  above  my  head.  The  noise  made 
by  the  dancers  was  muffled  and  confused,  and,  while 
I  knew  there  were  voices  talking,  and  could  occasion- 
ally catch  the  sound  of  a  laugh,  the  whole  was  merely 
a  din,  entirely  meaningless.  The  grim  incongruity  of 
that  merry  party  above,  dancing  and  laughing  in  the 
bright  light,  and  of  myself  in  that  black  cell  below, 
waiting  the  certainty  of  death  the  next  morning, 
served  to  steel  my  resolve  —  the  affair  was  like  an 
insult,  and  I  felt  my  blood  grow  hot  in  my  veins  as 
the  strains  of  a  waltz  and  schottish  mingled  with  the 
uproar  of  nimble  feet.  I  would  take  the  chance,  and 
it  might  as  well  be  now. 

I  could  hear  nothing  of  the  guard  in  the  corridor, 
although  I  listened  intently,  my  ear  against  the  iron 
door,  during  a  lull  in  that  babel  overhead.  It  was 
hardly  likely  another  inspection  would  be  made,  at 
least  not  until  the  sentries  were  again  relieved,  prob- 
ably at  midnight.  To  my  judgment  this  would  allow 
me  nearly  three  hours  in  which  to  make  my  effort  — 
and  surely  half  that  time  should  prove  sufficient.  The 
band  burst  into  harmony  again  —  a  polka,  I  remem- 
ber —  and  I  tore  free  the  loosened  support.  It  made 
an  ugly  bit  of  iron,  well  adapted  for  the  purpose  I 
had  in  mind.  Not  only  could  it  be  utilized  as  a  lever, 
but  it  was  no  mean  weapon  for  use  in  emergency. 


219 


I  found  the  iron  sheathing  difficult  to  penetrate, 
and  it  must  have  required  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes 
to  break  the  edge  loose  so  as  to  insert  the  point  of 
my  wedge.  The  effort  tore  my  hands  terribly,  but 
desperation  gave  me  a  strength  which  finally  pressed 
back  the  thin  sheet  of  iron.  The  bar,  once  inserted, 
furnished  the  necessary  leverage,  forcing  the  iron  to 
yield  about  the  rivet  heads.  The  operation  required 
time,  and  was  by  no  means  noiseless,  but  the  blaring 
of  the  band  drowned  the  rasping  sound,  and  enabled 
me  to  exercise  all  my  strength.  This  opening  gave 
me  both  hand  and  foot-hold,  together  with  a  new 
faith  in  my  ultimate  success.  I  waited  between 
the  dances,  recruiting  strained  muscles,  and,  listen- 
ing anxiously  for  any  alarming  sound  in  the  corridor ; 
only  to  spring  again  feverishly  to  the  work  the  mo- 
ment the  band  resumed  playing. 

Again  and  again  I  thought  my  effort  would  fail, 
yet  the  barrier  yielded  inch  by  inch,  bursting  from 
the  grip  of  the  rivets  as  I  succeeded  in  achieving 
leverage,  until  I  forced  fully  half  the  iron  curtain 
backward,  jamming  it  against  the  wall,  and  thus 
revealed  the  black  opening  into  the  chimney.  It 
was  there  just  as  I  had  remembered,  and  the  proof 
brought  me  fresh  hope,  and  renewed  determination. 
There  was  danger  ahead,  yet  the  most  difficult  part 
of  my  desperate  undertaking  had  been  accomplished. 


220  The  Red  Mist 

I  knelt  down  and  stared  breathlessly  into  the 
yawning  cavity,  and  thrust  my  head  into  the  open- 
ing seeking  for  some  gleam  of  light  above.  There 
was  none,  nor  was  there  any  smell  of  smoke.  This 
discovery  relieved  one  anxiety,  while  it  brought  a 
new  problem.  Had  the  oldtime  fireplaces  been  per- 
manently closed,  so  as  to  compel  me  to  climb  to  the 
very  roof  in  order  to  obtain  an  exit*?  The  opening 
which  I  had  uncovered  was  sufficiently  large  to  per- 
mit the  squeezing  through  of  my  body,  and,  once 
within  the  chimney,  I  found  ample  space  in  which  to 
explore. 

I  could  see  nothing,  and  was  compelled  to  rely 
entirely  upon  the  sense  of  touch.  This,  however, 
quickly  convinced  me  that  the  opposite  wall  was 
solid,  containing  not  even  a  flue  hole.  Then  assuredly 
no  furnace  had  ever  been  installed  in  the  building, 
and  either  open  fireplaces,  or  stoves,  were  used  for 
heating  purposes  in  those  rooms  above.  Probably 
the  former  had  been  discarded  and  the  latter  substi- 
tuted since  the  days  of  my  boyhood,  which  would 
account  for  the  darkness  above.  The  oldtime  open- 
ings had  been  closed,  sealed  up,  and  so  the  chances 
were  that  only  the  roof  afforded  opportunity  for  my 
escape.  I  felt  grave  doubt  as  to  my  ability  to  attain 
that  elevation ;  it  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect,  but  I 
had  already  gone  too  far  to  hesitate.  This  was  my 


The  One  Path  of  Escape  221 

only  chance,  and  I  must  either  give  it  a  trial,  or 
resign  myself  to  the  certain  fate  of  the  morrow. 

Iron  bars  had  been  left  on  one  side  the  chimney, 
forming  an  irregular  ladder,  whether  for  strengthen- 
ing or  some  other  purpose,  I  cannot  say.  My  groping 
hands  located  these,  and  by  their  aid  I  began  to  climb 
slowly  upward  through  the  pitch  darkness.  The 
chimney  walls  were  at  the  beginning  so  wide  apart 
as  to  afford  me  no  grip,  but  by  the  time  the  iron 
bands  disappeared,  which  was  just  below  the  floor  of 
the  first  story,  the  chimney  had  narrowed  sufficiently 
to  enable  me  to  brace  myself  between  its  jagged  sides. 
In  this  manner  I  not  only  managed  to  keep  from  fall- 
ing, but  even  succeeded  in  advancing  slowly,  al- 
though the  sharp  edges  of  the  stone  lacerated  hands 
and  knees  painfully.  At  the  level  of  the  first  story 
I  came  upon  a  projection  of  rock,  possibly  six 
or  eight  inches  wide,  on  which  I  found  secure  foot- 
hold, and  was  thus  able  to  regain  breath  and  strength 
for  a  renewal  of  the  struggle.  I  was  crouched  oppo- 
site the  oldtime  fireplace,  and  the  band,  playing  nois- 
ily, was  within  a  very  few  feet  of  where  I  hid.  How- 
ever, not  a  gleam  of  light  was  visible,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  I  located  the  opening  which  had  been 
left  for  a  stovepipe.  Even  then  I  could  feel  no  pipe, 
but,  as  I  extended  my  arm,  a  finger  burst  through  the 
paper  which  had  been  pasted  across  the  entrance,  and 


222  The  Red  Mist 

a  glow  of  radiance  illumined  the  black  walls 
about  me. 

I  waited  motionless,  holding  my  breath  in  fear 
that  some  eye  might  have  witnessed  the  tearing  of  the 
paper;  but  there  was  no  cessation  of  noise,  no  evi- 
dence of  discovery.  The  band  ceased  to  play,  and 
the  murmur  of  voices  in  conversation  reached  me 
where  I  clung  precariously  to  the  ragged  wall.  It 
was  a  mere  monotone,  the  mingled  words  indistin- 
guishable, confused  by  feet  moving  across  the  floor. 
Then  some  voice  announced  the  next  dance,  and  the 
band  began  again. 

Assailed  by  a  temptation  to  view  the  scene,  I  found 
foothold  a  little  higher  up,  and,  clinging  to  the  edge 
of  the  hole,  brought  my  eyes  to  a  level  with  the  rent 
in  the  paper.  The  vista  was  not  a  wide  one,  and  I 
dare  not  enlarge  the  space,  yet  I  saw  sufficient  to 
yield  me  full  knowledge  of  the  party,  and  its  occa- 
sion. The  floor  was  crowded,  the  men  almost  with- 
out exception  in  Federal  uniform.  A  few  of  these 
were  dancing  together,  as  thought  there  was  a  scar- 
city of  women  partners,  but  the  fairer  sex  were  not 
altogether  lacking,  and  I  had  little  difficulty  in  distin- 
guishing the  officers'  wives  from  the  town  belles  by 
the  cut  and  material  of  their  gowns.  The  latter,  how- 
ever, predominated,  proving  either  that  the  feminine 
inhabitants  of  Lewisburg  were  loyal  in  their  senti- 


The  One  Path  of  Escape  223 

ments,  or  that  the  Yankee  invaders  had  made  a  com- 
plete capture  of  the  town.  Whichever  theory  was 
the  true  one,  both  sexes  were  enjoying  themselves  to 
the  top  of  their  bent,  forgetful  of  everything  except 
the  pleasure  of  the  moment. 

The  couples  whirled  past,  circling  the  room.  I 
could  distinguish  uniforms  of  every  grade  below  that 
of  colonel,  and  representatives  of  the  three  arms  of 
the  service.  Occasionally  a  black  coat  appeared  con- 
spicuously amid  the  throng  on  the  floor,  but  there 
were  more  of  these  visible  along  the  side  walls.  It 
was  evidently  military  night,  and  the  ladies  looked 
kindly  on  brass  buttons  and  gold  lace.  The  big  room 
resounded  to  the  tap  of  feet,  and  the  ceaseless  mur- 
mur of  voices;  laughter  rang  out,  and  over  all  the 
merry  strain  of  music. 

I  watched  the  faces  eagerly,  but  they  were  all 
strange.  No  doubt  some  of  those  young  women  I 
had  known  as  girls,  but  they  had  grown  out  of  my 
recollection.  None  among  the  officers  present,  so  far 
as  I  could  tell,  had  I  ever  come  in  contact  with  —  ah ! 
yes !  there  was  Whitlock  sitting  disconsolately  alone 
below  the  judge's  bench.  I  clung  to  my  perch  deter- 
mining to  assure  myself,  but  my  eyes  encountered  no 
other  familiar  countenance.  Of  course  Noreen  would 
not  attend,  but  there  must  be  some  special  cause  to 
account  for  Raymond's  absence.  He  was  the  sort 


224  The  Red  Mist 

to  whom  such  an  occasion  as  this  would  naturally 
appeal. 

Satisfied  by  my  scrutiny,  I  explored  the  opposite 
wall  in  vain  for  any  similar  opening.  As  I  remem- 
bered there  were  offices  there,  where  in  days  of  peace 
the  county  officers  held  sway,  and  the  floor  above  was 
an  unfurnished  attic,  extending  the  full  length  of  the 
building,  having  a  low,  unceiled  roof.  In  the  old 
days  it  had  been  used  for  storage  purposes,  and  there 
was  a  narrow  stairway  leading  down  into  the  sheriff's 
office.  Ay!  and  there  was  a  contrivance  there  once 
in  which  they  used  to  burn  waste  papers.  I  remem- 
bered a  certain  house-cleaning  in  which  I  assisted, 
and  was  assigned  to  the  job  of  stirring  the  papers 
frequently  with  an  iron  poker.  I  thought  it  fun, 
and  the  chimney  funnel  was  a  big  one.  Possibly  it 
was  there  still,  but  could  I  succeed  in  getting  up  that 
far?  The  light  shining  through  the  broken  paper 
permitted  a  faint  glimpse  of  my  immediate  surround- 
ings, yet  revealed  little  to  encourage  such  an  attempt. 
The  chimney  was  barely  large  enough  to  admit  the 
upward  passage  of  my  body,  and  was  a  black  mys- 
tery. However,  the  irregularity  of  the  stones  prom- 
ised finger  and  foot-hold,  and  if  the  opening  retained 
the  same  formation  to  the  top,  I  might  be  able  to 
squeeze  through  without  serious  accident.  At  any 
rate  the  effort  must  be  made  —  to  retreat,  or  even  to 


The  One  Path  of  Escape  225 

remain  where  I  was,  involved  consequences  far  more 
dangerous  than  those  threatened  by  this  tunnel.  It 
offered  a  chance,  a  hope  —  and  I  could  ask  no  more. 

These  were  but  flashes  of  thought,  for  I  was  climb- 
ing before  the  music  ceased,  clinging  desperately  to 
every  slight  projection,  and  bracing  myself  against 
the  walls.  Progress  was  slow,  and  occasionally  pain- 
ful ;  the  contracted  space  gave  me  a  feeling  of  suffo- 
cation, and  I  dislodged  enough  soot  so  I  was 
compelled  to  struggle  constantly  to  restrain  from 
coughing.  My  only  relief  was  to  bind  a  handker- 
chief across  mouth  and  nostrils. 

While  the  music  remained  silent,  I  rested,  fearful 
lest  my  struggles  would  be  overheard,  taking  such 
meager  comfort  as  I  could.  The  first  blare  of  the 
horns  started  me  off  once  more,  careless  in  the  midst 
of  so  much  noise  as  to  whether  I  rattled  the  loosened 
plaster,  or  even  dislodged  an  ill-secured  stone.  But 
at  the  best  the  passage  was  made  by  inches,  and  I  took 
more  than  one  desperate  chance  of  slipping;  twice  I 
clung  breathless  as  the  music  ceased,  but  the  second 
time  I  felt  convinced  I  had  attained  to  the  level  of 
the  upper  floor.  This  was  but  a  decision  of  judg- 
ment, as  my  only  guidance  came  from  the  noise 
below,  and  the  distance  which  it  seemed  to  me  I  had 
clambered  up.  There  was  no  change  in  my  surround- 
ings as  revealed  by  my  groping  hands  —  the  same 


226  The  Red  Mist 

solid  four  walls  of  rubble  stone  and  plaster,  but  these 
thus  far  ran  straight  up,  wide  enough  apart  to  permit 
the  passage  of  my  body. 

With  the  next  burst  of  melody  from  below,  now 
somewhat  mellowed  by  distance  and  the  intervening 
walls,  I  made  another  attempt  to  ascend,  but  had 
scarcely  attained  more  than  a  foot  or  two  when  my 
right  hand  plunged  into  a  wide  opening.  Clinging  as 
best  I  could  to  a  precarious  footing,  I  ran  my  arm 
deeper  in  until  I  came  in  contact  with  a  tin  covering, 
which  yielded  easily  to  the  pressure  of  my  fingers,  and 
finally  fell  rather  noisily  to  the  floor.  I  paused, 
startled  at  the  sound,  but  no  gleam  of  light  came 
through  the  opening,  and  I  instantly  realized  that  the 
attic  was  unoccupied.  The  rattle  of  the  tin  would,  in 
all  probability,  create  no  alarm  because  of  the  din 
below. 

I  knew  now  exactly  where  I  was,  the  only  imme- 
diate problem  being  my  ability  to  squeeze  through 
that  narrow  space.  The  oldtime  burner  had  evidently 
been  removed,  and  a  tin  cap  fitted  over  the  chimney 
hole.  I  wiggled  my  way  in  head  first,  shoulders 
drawn  together,  hands  gripping  the  outer  edge,  and 
feet  pressed  strong  against  the  inside  of  the  chimney. 
At  first  it  seemed  as  if  I  hardly  moved,  and  I  was 
wedged  so  closely  that  every  attempt  to  breathe  gave 
me  pain;  yet  to  crush  my  way  forward  was  easier 


The  One  Path  of  Escape  227 

than  an  attempt  to  retreat,  and  I  pushed  with  all  my 
power,  feeling  my  clothes  tear,  yet  conscious  of  some 
slight  advance.  The  encouragement  of  this  success 
led  to  a  redoubling  of  effort,  my  shoulders  drawn 
close,  and  every  muscle  strained  to  its  utmost.  My 
knees  were  doubled  up  in  the  chimney,  and  my  feet 
found  solid  purchase  against  the  stones.  I  felt  as 
though  the  very  skin  was  being  peeled  off  me,  but  I 
shot  forward,  my  head  and  shoulders  emerging  into 
the  open.  Heavens!  what  a  relief!  I  drew  a  long 
breath,  dangling  over  the  floor,  unable  to  reach  any 
support;  then  kicked  and  struggled  until  I  fell  out 
headlong,  and  lay  too  exhausted  even  to  move. 

It  was  so  still  I  could  plainly  hear  the  swift  beat- 
ing of  my  heart,  and  so  dark  that  not  an  object  was 
discernible.  The  music  below  had  ceased,  and,  as  I 
was  now  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  building,  the 
sound  of  conversation  and  movement  did  not  reach 
me.  For  a  long  moment  I  lay  there  endeavoring  to 
recall  the  surroundings,  but  I  dare  not  waste  much 
time  in  such  idleness.  The  night  was  slipping  away, 
and  every  instant  gained  was  to  my  advantage.  There 
was  no  safety  until  I  was  out  of  this  building.  I 
ached  from  head  to  foot,  my  clothes  must  be  in  rags, 
and,  no  doubt,  I  was  as  black  as  a  negro  from  chim- 
ney soot.  Yet  my  heart  beat  high  with  hope,  and 
the  spirit  of  adventure  gripped  me. 


228  The  Red  Mist 

The  stairs  were  somewhere  to  the  right,  unpro- 
tected by  even  a  handrail.  I  crept  toward  them 
across  the  rough  board  floor,  fearing  a  fall,  and 
finally  located  the  opening.  Nothing  indicated  that 
the  room  below  was  occupied,  and  I  slipped  down  as 
silently  as  possible,  although  the  steps  creaked  under 
my  weight.  Once  in  the  sheriff's  room,  some  recol- 
lection of  its  form  and  furnishing  recurred  to  mind; 
my  memory,  served  by  the  dim  reflection  of  a  camp- 
fire  without,  which  rendered  objects  faintly  visible. 
I  could  distinguish  the  desk,  and  a  few  rounded-back 
wooden  chairs  pushed  against  the  wall.  There  was  a 
door  to  the  left,  standing  ajar,  leading  into  a  wash- 
room, and  I  ventured  within,  feeling  about  to  assure 
myself  if  there  had  been  any  water  left.  I  found  a 
bucket  nearly  full,  and  two  bars  of  soap,  and  unable 
to  resist  the  luxury,  I  stripped  off  my  ragged  uniform 
coat,  and  began  vigorous  scrubbing.  How  thorough 
a  job  I  made  of  it  I  cannot  tell,  but  the  soap  lathered 
freely,  and  I  certainly  did  my  best,  using  up  an  entire 
roller  towel  in  the  final  effort  to  attain  cleanliness. 

There  was  a  coat  and  hat  hanging  on  the  hooks, 
neither  article  of  the  highest  respectability  I  judged 
from  feeling  them,  but  more  to  my  purpose  than  the 
rags  I  had  cast  aside,  and  I  donned  the  two  gladly, 
finding  them  no  bad  fit.  The  hat  was  looped  up  writh 
a  star.  Feeling  quite  myself  again  in  these  new 


The  One  Path  of  Escape  229 

habiliments;  and  conscious  of  a  clean  face,  I  stole 
across  the  sheriff's  deserted  office,  seeking  the  door 
into  the  corridor.  I  found  it,  but  it  was  locked. 
Failing  to  force  this  I  tried  the  windows,  only  to  dis- 
cover them  securely  barred.  All  these  offices  were 
connected  together,  that  of  the  county  clerk  adjoin- 
ing the  sheriff's,  and  possibly  I  might  find  a  door 
unlocked  somewhere ;  at  least  none  of  the  other  win- 
dows would  be  ironed. 

I  listened  at  the  door  leading  into  the  clerk's  room, 
but  heard  no  sound.  There  was  no  lock  on  the  door, 
and  it  opened  silently  to  the  pressure  of  my  hand.  A 
flood  of  light  swept  into  my  eyes,  and  I  stood  blink- 
ing blindly,  too  surprised  and  startled  to  draw  in- 
stantly back.  There  were  two  men  in  the  room,  one 
bending  over  a  desk,  the  other  sitting  leaning  back 
against  the  wall  directly  facing  me.  The  latter  was 
Lieutenant  Raymond. 


CHAPTER  XX 

I   MAKE  TWO  PRISONERS 


SAW  him  stare,  open  mouthed,  as 
though  at  a  ghost.  There  was  a  startled 
look  in  his  face,  but  no  recognition.  The 
same  swift  glimpse  had  revealed  to  me  a 
discarded  belt  on  the  end  of  the  desk,  in  which  glit- 
tered the  pearl  handle  of  a  revolver.  With  one  step 
forward  I  had  the  weapon  in  my  possession,  and 
sprang  between  both  men  and  the  door. 

"  Not  a  single  move,  gentlemen !  "  I  commanded 
crisply,  yet  not  venturing  to  speak  loud,  for  fear  of 
a  guard  outside.  "  Lieutenant,  place  your  gun  on 
the  desk!" 

He  had  it  half-drawn,  but  my  weapon  was  aimed 
straight  at  his  head. 

"  What  the  hell !  "  he  sputtered. 
"  Never  mind !     Do  as  I  say  first,  and  then  ask 
questions  —  take  it  by  the  barrel ;  now  slide  it  across 
to  me." 

My  eyes  glanced  aside  at  the  face  of  the  other, 
who  was  looking  up,  scarcely  comprehending  even 
yet  what  had  occurred,  and  recognized  Colonel  Pick- 
ney.  So  I  had  blindly  strayed  into  headquarters! 

230 


/  Make  Two  Prisoners  231 

Well,  it  was  a  ticklish  position,  but,  for  the  moment 
at  least,  I  had  the  upper  hand.  Now  I  must  use  my 
wit  to  retain  it.  The  confused,  startled  look  on  the 
two  faces  amused  me  —  Raymond  gasped  like  a  fish 
out  of  water,  and  the  florid  features  of  the  colonel 
expressed  a  chagrin  too  deep  for  words.  I  thought 
he  would  explode,  he  sputtered  so  before  he  could 
give  vocal  utterance  to  his  discovery. 

"  By  God,  it's  that  damn  spy !  " 

"  What !  "  and  the  Lieutenant  took  a  step  for- 
ward, only  to  shrink  back  as  my  revolver  came  to  a 
level.  "  The  Johnny  we  were  going  to  hang?  " 

"  Were  going  to  —  yes,"  and  I  smiled  grimly, 
"  but  you  are  not  quite  so  cocksure  of  it  now.  What 
have  you  here*?  " 

I  glanced  sidelong  at  the  paper  on  which  the 
Colonel's  hand  still  rested.  My  eyes  caught  but  a 
line  or  two,  yet  enough  to  convince  me  it  was  an 
order  of  court-martial. 

"  Intended  for  my  case,  sir"?  " 

He  nodded  angrily,  growling  out  an  indistinct 
word. 

"  Tear  it  up ;  I  have  decided  against  being  pres- 
ent. You  heard  me  —  tear  it  up !  " 

He  was  raging  inwardly,  but  must  have  read  the 
meaning  of  my  eyes  for  his  hands  tore  the  sheet 
across,  and  flung  the  fragments  to  the  floor. 


232  The  Red  Mist 

"  It  is  your  turn  now,  Johnny,"  he  said  sneeringly, 
"  but  it  won't  last  long.  There  is  a  sentinel  out- 
side." 

"  I  supposed  so;  and  any  noise  either  one  of  you 
make  will  be  the  last  sound  you'll  utter  in  this 
world.  That  is  no  idle  threat,  gentlemen;  so  don't 
take  the  chance.  My  life  is  at  stake  in  this  game  I'm 
playing,  and  I  shall  shoot  to  kill." 

"  How  the  devil  did  you  get  here*?  " 

"  We  will  discuss  that  when  we  have  more  time. 
Lieutenant  Raymond,  I  will  trouble  you  to  step 
around  back  of  the  desk  —  no,  the  other  way ;  I  ad- 
vise you  not  to  be  tricky.  Colonel  Pickney,  sit  up 
in  your  chair,  and  put  your  hands  behind  you  in 
through  the  openings  in  the  chair  back.  Oh,  yes  you 
will !  Don't  be  a  fool,  man !  What  is  this  —  a  hair 
trigger?  " 

I  never  saw  anyone  more  thoroughly  angry;  he 
would  have  killed  me  with  the  utmost  pleasure,  and, 
indeed,  for  an  instant,  I  expected  him  to  actually 
make  the  attempt.  But  my  eyes  glared  into  his, 
and  the  pearl-handled  revolver  was  within  six  inches 
of  his  head,  and  the  man  was  not  insane.  Slowly, 
reluctantly,  as  though  actually  forced  into  the  action, 
his  arms  were  thrust  backward  into  a  posture  of 
helplessness.  His  lips  sputtered,  but  he  could  not 
even  swear. 


I  Make  Two  Prisoners  233 

"  Now  Raymond,  take  that  belt  and  bind  him," 
I  commanded  sternly.  "  Go  to  it,  and  be  quick.  Re- 
member I  have  a  gun  in  each  hand.  Pass  it  clear 
around  his  body,  and  across  the  wrists.  Now  draw 
it  tight  —  oh !  tighter  than  that !  I  expect  it  to 
hurt  him !  Good  Lord,  man,  this  is  war !  I  am  the 
one  you  have  cause  to  feel  afraid  of  —  he  cannot 
court-martial  you  for  obeying  my  orders  with  a  gun 
at  your  head.  That's  it  —  now  catch  the  buckle." 

Pickney  choked  with  rage  to  which  he  dare  not 
give  vent,  and  the  hands  of  the  lieutenant  shook  as 
though  from  chill.  His  face  was  so  white  I  began 
to  think  the  fellow  had  a  streak  of  cowardice  in  him, 
but  his  very  fear  might  give  him  recklessness.  I 
shoved  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver  against  his  coat. 

"  Now  this  other  around  his  legs;  strap  them  tight 
to  the  chair.  Very  good,  indeed;  you  are  learning 
your  trade." 

I  tested  the  taut  leather  with  one  hand. 

"  That  will  hold  you,  Colonel,  all  but  your 
mouth,  and  I  hope  you  have  enough  sense  left  to 
guard  that  yourself.  Raymond,"  and  my  glance 
swept  the  walls  of  the  room  hastily,  "  I  regret  troub- 
ling you  so  much;  it  is  like  adding  insult  to  injury 
—  but  would  you  reach  me  those  overalls  hanging 
on  the  hook  behind  you.  Thank  you;  now  turn  that 
chair,  so  the  back  will  be  this  way,  and  —  sit  down." 


234  The  Red  Mist 


He  knew  what  I  meant,  and  there  was  an  ugly 
look  in  his  eyes,  but  I  gave  him  no  time  for  action. 
The  colonel  was  safe  enough,  and  I  felt  free  to  give 
my  entire  attention  to  the  younger  man.  Nor  did  I 
feel  any  inclination  to  deal  with  him  gently.  It  was 
his  jealousy  and  malice  which  were  largely  respon- 
sible for  my  position  of  peril,  and  he  had  exhibited 
petty  meanness  in  his  treatment  of  me  when  he  pos- 
sessed the  power.  Now,  for  the  moment,  at  least, 
that  power  was  mine,  and  the  recollection  left  me 
no  inclination  to  be  gentle.  I  gripped  him  by  the 
collar,  twisting  my  knuckles  into  his  throat,  and 
thrust  him  down  into  the  chair  seat  with  a  violence 
which  caused  the  fellow  to  gasp  for  breath. 

"  You  move  when  I  speak!  "  I  said  threateningly. 
"  This  is  no  boy's  play.  Now  put  your  hands  back 
—  oh,  farther  than  that ;  cross  them  over  each  other. 
Come,  do  you  feel  the  steel !  I  do  not  like  you  any 
too  well,  Raymond;  I  know  your  treachery." 

"  I  did  nothing  against  you,"  he  protested  wrig- 
gling about  to  gain  glimpse  of  my  face.  "  I  had  no 
authority  here  —  " 

"  No,  but  you  had  influence,  and  used  it  against 
me.  I  got  the  story  straight  enough,  and  can  guess 
the  reason.  You  were  going  to  call  on  me,  but  you 
failed  to  do  so." 

"  Did  Captain  Fox  tell  you  that*?  " 


I  Make  Two  Prisoners  235 

"  Never  mind  who  told  me.  We  are  not  dis- 
cussing the  affair  now.  Sit  back  straighter;  there,  I 
reckon  that  will  hold.  Oh!  it  hurts,  does  it?  I 
meant  it  should.  Let  me  see ;  there  ought  to  be  some 
cord  in  one  of  these  drawers.  Ah,  I  thought  so;  now 
I  will  make  a  good  job  of  it." 

I  stood  off  and  looked  at  the  two  of  them,  sur- 
prised at  the  ease  with  which  I  had  accomplished 
the  result,  but  entirely  at  sea  as  to  my  next  move- 
ment. All  I  had  done  since  entering  the  room  had 
been  instinctive  rather  than  thoughtful.  I  had  ac- 
cepted the  only  course  open,  but  the  work  had  been 
done  without  plan,  without  conception  of  what  must 
follow.  There  was  a  guard  on  duty  in  the  corridor 
without,  and,  no  doubt,  another  at  the  door  of  the 
building.  Apparently  there  was  no  other  point  of 
egress,  and  to  remain  where  I  was  would  result  in 
certain  discovery,  and  that  soon.  My  success  was 
but  temporary,  and  my  peril  in  no  degree  lessened  by 
what  had  already  been  accomplished.  No  plan,  no 
hopeful  possibility,  occurred  to  me;  I  could  but 
stare  vacantly  at  my  two  prisoners,  and  about  at 
the  walls  of  the  room.  Raymond  was  jammed  back 
into  one  corner  farthest  from  the  door,  his  face  white, 
every  bit  of  nerve  gone,  and  a  red  welt  showing 
where  my  grip  had  contracted  the  flesh.  The  fel- 
low actually  looked  pitiful  he  was  so  completely 


236  The  Red  Mist 


cowed.  But  Pickney  was  of  a  different  kidney.  He 
sat  glaring  angrily  at  me  across  the  table,  with  face 
red  as  the  rising  sun,  straining  at  the  tough  leather, 
his  lips  muttering  incoherent  threats  of  vengeance. 

"  I'll  get  you  yet,  you  damned  rascal,"  I  heard  him 
growl,  "  and  stretch  your  neck  without  any  trial." 

"  And  I'll  gag  that  mouth  of  yours,"  I  answered 
"  and  keep  it  still  for  awhile.  Oh,  yes,  you'll  open 
up,  my  man !  I  know  a  trick  that  will  make  you  bite 
the  tighter  I  pull  the  cord.  How  about  you,  Lieu- 
tenant? Would  you  like  a  dose  of  the  same  medi- 
cine?" 

I  stepped  across  to  him,  a  strip  of  cloth  in  my 
hand,  but  just  at  that  instant  the  latch  of  the  door 
rattled  as  though  a  hand  without  gripped  it.  I  had 
barely  time  in  which  to  leap  back  against  the  wall, 
hidden  from  view,  when  the  door  opened  inward. 
All  I  saw  was  the  glimpse  of  a  man's  hand  and  sleeve. 
The  fellow  must  have  perceived  nothing  to  alarm 
him,  for  he  merely  held  the  door  ajar. 

"  A  lady  to  see  the  colonel,"  he  announced  briefly. 
"  Just  step  in,  miss." 

I  saw  her  advance  two  steps,  and  then  stop  mo- 
tionless, with  half-suppressed  cry  of  surprise.  The 
sentry  could  not  have  heard  the  slight  exclamation, 
for  he  closed  the  door,  the  latch  clicking  sharply. 
Her  eyes  opened  wide,  staring  first  at  the  Colonel, 


"You!"  she  exclaimed.     "You  here —  and  free!      What — what 
have  you  done  to  these  men?" 


/  Make  Two  Prisoners  237 

then  at  Raymond,  so  startled  at  the  discovery  of 
their  predicament  as  to  be  dazed.  I  took  a  step  for- 
ward, and  for  the  first  time,  she  became  aware  o£ 
another  person  in  the  room.  She  drew  hastily  back, 
one  hand  flung  out,  as  though  in  defense,  for  the 
instant  failing  to  recognize  me  in  citizen's  clothes. 
Then  the  swift  light  of  recognition  leaped  into  her 
eyes,  as  she  leaned  forward  to  scan  me  more  closely 
in  the  dim  light  of  the  single  lamp.  I  could  not 
tell,  I  could  not  be  sure,  yet  I  thought  the  expression 
on  her  face  was  one  of  relief,  of  rejoicing. 

"You!"  she  exclaimed,  as  though  not  yet  half 
convinced  of  the  truth.  "  You  here  —  and  free ! 
What  —  what  have  you  done  to  these  men?  " 

I  laughed  lightly,  so  relieved  by  her  reception  as 
to  feel  a  new  man. 

"  Merely  turned  the  tables;  this  time  luck  was  on 
my  side." 

"  You  have  not  hurt  them"?  " 

"  Oh,  no;  there  was  no  necessity.  They  were  quite 
easily  persuaded.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  gain 
possession  of  all  the  weapons,  and  neither  gentleman 
seemed  eager  to  prove  a  hero.  As  you  perceive,  they 
are  like  lambs." 

They  hardly  looked  it,  for  if  ever  murder  glared 
unconcealed  in  the  eyes  of  men,  it  did  then ;  but  they 
were  helpless  to  move,  or  express  themselves  —  at 


238  The  Red  Mist 

least  the  colonel  was,  although  he  struggled  fiercely. 
The  younger  officer  made  no  attempt,  his  thin  lips 
drawn  back  in  a  cruel  snarl.  I  was  certain  there  was 
a  swift  gleam  of  amusement  in  the  girl's  eyes,  but  it 
passed  quickly  as  her  glance  again  met  mine. 

"  But  you!  Tell  me;  I  must  understand  in  order 
to  know  what  to  do.  How  did  you  come  here4?  " 

"  The  explanation  is  simple  enough,  and  these 
gentlemen  will  be  interested  also  in  hearing  about 
it.  No  doubt  they  think  I  dropped  from  the  sky. 
When  my  father  was  the  judge  of  this  court,  I  was 
free  to  play  about  the  building,  and  in  that  way  I 
learned  all  its  secrets.  They  chose  the  old  record 
room  as  my  cell,  and  I  was  aware  that  the  big  cen- 
tral chimney  composed  the  greater  part  of  its  inner 
wall.  My  only  problem  was  to  break  through,  and 
this  I  succeeded  in  doing.  There  was  a  dance  in  the 
courtroom,  and  the  noise  enabled  me  to  work  with- 
out discovery.  I  crept  up  through  the  chimney,  and 
came  out  in  the  attic.  There  are  stairs  leading  down 
into  the  sheriff's  office,  just  beyond  there.  That  was 
where  I  found  these  clothes,  but  the  door  into  the 
corridor  was  locked,  and  so  I  came  in  here.  I  had 
no  suspicion  the  room  was  occupied,  until  I  came 
face  to  face  with  these  men.  But  they  were  more 
surprised  even  than  I.  I  got  the  guns  first,  and  that 
ended  it ;  but  I  cannot  hold  you  up  that  way." 


/  Make  Two  Prisoners  239 

"  There  is  no  necessity." 

"  No!  "  I  could  not  keep  the  joyous  note  out  of 
my  voice.  "  You  mean  —  " 

"  Merely,  that  I  came  here  seeking  your  release, 
or  rather  to  urge  that  you  be  given  a  trial  at  Charles- 
ton. It  is  scarcely  likely  under  all  conditions  that 
I  will  prevent  your  escape,  or  attempt  to  do  so.  You 
saved  me  from  a  fate  worse  than  death,  and  was 
captured  while  endeavoring  to  serve  me.  Surely 
you  did  not  suppose  I  had  forgotten*?  You  received 
my  message?  " 

"  Yes,  and  was  most  thankful  for  it.  I  confess 
I  had  doubted  before." 

"  I  read  your  thoughts  in  your  face;  that  was  one 
reason  why  I  wished  to  reassure  you.  I  could  not  be 
ungrateful."  She  glanced  across  the  room,  and  be- 
gan again  as  though  anxious  to  get  upon  another 
topic.  "I  —  I  requested  Lieutenant  Raymond  to 
intercede  in  your  behalf,  and  he  pledged  me  his 
word  to  do  so.  Less  than  an  hour  ago  I  learned  he 
was  exerting  his  influence  with  Colonel  Pickney 
against  my  wishes.  I  determined  to  come  here  in 
person,  and  learn  the  truth.  Have  you  any  explana- 
tion, Lieutenant  Raymond." 

"  The  fellow  is  a  self-confessed  spy,"  he  asserted 
hoarsely.  "  There  was  nothing  I  could  say  to  save 
him." 


240  The  Red  Mist 


"  Did  you  attempt  to  say  anything*?  " 

"Why,  yes;  I  —  " 

"  Lieutenant,  I  made  no  request  that  you  would 
interpose  to  save  this  man  from  his  jifst  fate  under 
military  law.  My  father  was  a  soldier,  and  I  know 
a  soldier's  duty.  All  I  asked  was  that  he  be  sent  to 
Charleston,  to  the  headquarters  of  this  department, 
where  he  could  have  an  impartial  trial.  If  you  had 
so  advised  Colonel  Pickney  that  would  have  been 
done.  He  would  have  gladly  shifted  the  responsi- 
bility elsewhere.  Now  the  full  burden  of  decision 
falls  on  me.  I  must  choose  between  two  duties." 

"Two  duties'?" 

"  Yes  —  two;  my  loyalty  to  the  Union,  or  to  my 
husband." 

Raymond  certainly  was  no  more  startled  than  I 
at  this  avowal,  perhaps  less  so,  for  although  the 
words  choked  in  his  throat,  he  managed  to  give  them 
utterance. 

"  Your  husband !  Good  God !  do  you  mean  to 
say  you  are  married  to  this  fellow4? " 

"I  not  only  mean  to  say  it,"  she  said  calmly, 
"  but  I  have  the  proof  with  me.  I  tell  you  the  fact 
merely  to  justify  my  action,  for  I  intend  to  save  him 
if  I  can.  I  wish  Colonel  Pickney  to  know  why  I  do 
this  —  what  conditions  justify  me  in  so  rebellious 
a  course.  This  man  does  not  deserve  death ;  he  was 


I  Make  Two  Prisoners  241 

captured  while  defending  me  from  insult,  and  he  is 
my  husband.  I  should  be  unworthy  the  name  of 
woman  if  I  did  not  aid  his  escape." 

She  turned  to  me,  her  eyes  eager. 

"  Tom,  you  must  do  just  as  I  say." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    LADY    CHOOSES 

HE  came  across  toward  me,  her  back  to 
the  others,  and  spoke  swiftly,  yet  in  a 
low  voice  which  did  not  carry  to  their 
ears. 

"  There  is  only  one  way  possible  for  you  to  pass 
out  of  this  building  and  through  the  camp  safely. 
There  are  guards  everywhere,  and  the  orders  are  very 
strict;  but  I  think  we  can  go  together.  I  know  the 
countersign  —  Captain  Fox  is  officer  of  the  day,  and 
trusted  me  with  it.  If  —  if  you  only  had  a  uni- 
form! Where  is  the  one  you  wore?  " 

"  My  trip  through  the  chimney  left  that  in  rags," 
I  answered,  impressed  by  her  earnestness,  and  get- 
ting my  wits  together. 

She  glanced  about  the  walls  of  the  room,  a  frown 
between  her  eyes. 

"  Then  we  must  forage  from  the  enemy,"  with  a 
little  nervous  laugh.  "  You  would  never  pass  the 
sentry  in  the  corridor  wearing  that  suit.  You  will 
have  to  take  the  lieutenant's  coat  and  cap.  Be  quick 
about  it  —  and  —  and  you  need  not  be  particularly 
gentle  on  my  account." 

242 


The  Lady  Chooses  243 

"  Nor  on  my  own  either  —  Fox  informed  me  of 
what  he  told  you." 

I  was  not  long  about  the  job,  nor  did  Raymond 
make  any  resistance  to  the  exchange  forced  upon 
him.  In  fact  he  acted  like  a  man  too  completely 
dazed  to  even  realize  the  indignity  of  his  treatment, 
yet  the  way  his  eyes  followed  my  every  movement, 
and  the  smouldering  hate  in  their  depths,  left  me  to 
doubt  but  what  the  fellow  would  prove  dangerous 
enough,  if  ever  he  regained  the  power.  I  took  no 
chances,  binding  him  with  greater  care  than  before, 
and  fitting  a  gag  into  his  mouth  to  silence  any  pos- 
sible cry  for  help.  Noreen  st  od  close  to  the  door, 
apparently  listening  for  some  noise  without,  yet  oc- 
casionally directing  her  glance  toward  us  anxiously. 
I  slipped  into  the  lieutenant's  coat,  which  fitted  me 
snugly,  and  pulled  his  cap  well  down  over  my  eyes. 
I  bore  no  resemblance  to  the  man,  yet  in  the  dark 
the  difference  might  not  be  noticed. 

"  Are  you  ready*?  "  she  asked  in  a  low  whisper. 

"  Yes ;  but  tell  me  your  plan.  I  need  to  know 
what  character  I  am  to  enact,  —  Raymond"?  " 

"Not  at  first;  not  in  the  hall.  That  would  be 
useless,  as  there  is  a  light  burning.  Listen,"  and  she 
grasped  my  sleeve  in  both  hands  in  her  eagerness  to 
explain.  "  Do  you  remember  the  way  the  corridor 
runs'? " 


244  The  Red  Mist 

"  I  think  so.  This  is  the  left  branch  of  the  main 
hallway.  It  is  about  four  feet  wide,  and  this  is  the 
third  door  from  the  turn.  Am  I  right?  " 

"  Yes,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recall.  I  did  not  notice 
closely.  The  light  is  at  the  intersection,  a  coal-oil 
lamp  in  a  bracket  against  the  wall.  There  is  a  sen- 
try stationed  outside  this  door  —  the  Colonel's  or- 
derly, I  presume,  but  fully  armed,  and  two  others 
at  the  front  entrance.  These  are  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  away,  and  out  of  sight  from  this  door.  I  am 
not  particularly  afraid  of  passing  them." 

"  It's  the  fellow  stationed  here  9  " 

"  Yes,  he  will  be  suspicious  of  a  stranger  coming 
out  with  me,  for  he  has  seen  everyone  who  came  in." 

"  There  is  only  one  course  to  pursue  then.  We 
must  trust  to  force,  and  a  quick  assault  which  will 
give  the  fellow  no  time  to  raise  an  alarm.  You  go 
out  alone,  leaving  the  door  slightly  ajar,  and  engage 
him  in  conversation.  Did  he  appear  to  be  genial 
when  you  met  him  before*?  " 

"  Yes,  rather  eager  to  talk  —  a  young  man." 

"Good;  then  you  can  gain  his  attention  for  a 
moment.  Stand  so  that  his  back  will  be  to  the  door." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  kill  him?  " 

"  There  will  be  no  necessity;  once  I  get  my  grip 
the  affair  will  be  over  —  you  understand?" 

Her  lips  were  firmly  set,  her  eyes  gravely  earnest. 


The  Lady  Chooses  245 

The  light  fell  full  on  her  face.    I  could  not  refrain 
from  touching  her  hand. 

"  You  will  let  me  thank  you !  " 
"  There  is  no  need.    I  could  do  no  less/' 
"  But  few  would  show  the  bravery." 
"  Bravery !    Why  I  have  exhibited  none.    Please 
do  not  speak  of  that  —  every  moment  now  means 
so  much.     Yes,  I  understand  perfectly;  shall  I  go 
now*?" 

I  nodded,  drawing  slightly  back  behind  the  door. 
Her  words  brought  me  no  encouragement,  no  hope 
that  this  act  had  been  inspired  by  any  sentiment 
beyond  that  of  mere  friendliness  and  gratitude.  She 
felt  under  obligation,  and  was  paying  the  debt.  I 
was  to  expect  nothing  more.  Once  I  was  safe  beyond 
the  lines,  it  was  to  be  simply  good-by  —  a  parting 
forever.  I  set  my  teeth  hard,  conscious  of  the  pain 
at  my  heart,  but  with  my  lesson  learned.  I  could 
expect  nothing  else ;  I  had  been  a  fool  to  dream  — 
now  I  would  perform  a  man's  part,  and  hold  to 
her  respect  at  least.  I  thrust  both  revolvers  into  the 
belt  I  had  retained ;  this  was  to  be  an  affair  of  bare 
hands  —  swift,  merciless,  noiseless. 

She  grasped  the  latch  of  the  door,  lifted  her  eyes 
to  mine  for  a  bare  instant;  then  opened  it  silently, 
and  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  her  lips  smiling,  as  she 
paused  a  moment  to  glance  backward  into  the  room. 


246  The  Red  Mist 


"  Very  well,  Colonel ;  I  shall  certainly  take  her 
your  message,"  she  said  gaily,  "  and  I  thank  you  so 
much." 

Her  fingers  released  the  latch,  leaving  the  door 
standing  ajar. 

"  Oh,  sentry,"  she  said  pleasantly,  but  with 
guarded  voice,  "  I  know  it  is  perfectly  ridiculous,  but 
a  strand  of  hair  has  become  entangled  in  this  clasp. 
Would  you  kindly  see  if  you  can  free  it*? " 

"  Certa:nly,  Miss." 

I  heard  him  set  down  his  musket  against  the  wall, 
and  step  forward. 

"  On  the  other  side,"  she  suggested.  "  If  you  turn 
this  way  you  will  get  the  benefit  of  the  light;  it  is 
caught  in  those  crossed  sabers,  I  think." 

She  stepped  back  as  I  gripped  him,  steadying  the 
musket  to  keep  it  from  being  jarred  to  the  floor.  A 
gasp  was  all  the  sound  he  gave  —  a  gasp,  and  one 
convulsive  effort  to  break  loose;  but  with  the  first 
jerk  backward  I  had  him  off  his  feet,  helpless,  my 
arm  circling  his  throat,  holding  him  in  a  vise.  I 
dragged  him  forward  through  the  door,  and  flung 
him  to  the  floor  face  downward. 

"  Not  a  cry,  son,"  I  commanded  sternly.  "I'll 
not  shoot  unless  I  have  to.  You  are  no  worse  off 
than  your  colonel.  Hand  me  the  rope  cord  in  that 
upper  desk  drawer,  Noreen;  yes,  that's  it.  Now, 


The  Lady  Chooses  247 

Jack,  put  your  hands  behind  you !  Ah !  you've  done 
the  same  job  in  your  day,  no  doubt  —  easy  there,  or 
you  may  get  hurt.  Now  I'll  turn  you  over,  and 
bottle  up  your  tongue;  rather  a  surprise  party,  wasn't 
it?" 

The  fellow  stared  up  at  me,  and  grinned. 

"  You  sure  did  put  it  over  me  that  time,"  he  ad- 
mitted, a  touch  of  genuine  admiration  in  his  voice. 
"  I  was  like  a  baby,  sir." 

"  You  would  have  been  if  you  had  weighed  a  ton, 
the  grip  I  had  on  you  —  I  know  the  trade." 

"  Ay!  yer  do  that;  who  are  yer,  may  I  ask?  " 

"  The  spy  you  fellows  planned  to  hang  in  the 
morning,"  I  answered,  amused  by  his  unexpected 
good  humor.  "  Sorry,  Jack,  but  I'll  have  to  gag 
you." 

"The  pleasure  is  mine;  don't  mention  it,"  and 
he  winked  facetiously,  with  a  nod  of  his  head  toward 
the  heavily  breathing  colonel.  I  bound  a  bit  of 
rag  over  his  mouth,  more  to  give  him  an  excuse  for 
silence  than  because  I  had  any  fear  he  would  raise 
an  alarm.  Noreen  had  silently  opened  the  door,  and 
slipped  out  into  the  corridor.  With  a  swift  glance 
over  the  three  helpless  men  left  behind,  I  joined  her, 
and  tightly  closed  the  door.  The  light  of  the  distant 
lamp  revealed  her  face,  but  her  eyes  were  serious. 

"  Better  leave  the  musket  leaning  against   the 


248  The  Red  Mist 


wall,"  I  whispered,  noting  she  still  grasped  the 
weapon.  "  It  will  only  arouse  suspicion.  There  are 
two  guards  at  the  front  entrance*?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  swiftly,  "  and  you  had  bet- 
ter give  the  word.  If  they  stop  you,  and  ask  any 
questions,  give  any  name  you  please  —  only  you 
came  with  dispatches  from  General  Ramsay  two 
hours  ago,  and  have  been  with  Colonel  Pickney  ever 
since.  It  is  less  than  an  hour  since  the  guard  was  re- 
lieved, for  Captain  Fox  left  me  in  order  to  make  the 
rounds,  and  these  men  will  not  know.  You  under- 
stand? " 

"  Perfectly,  and  the  countersign"?  " 

"  Kanawah." 

I  hesitated,  and  her  eyes  fell,  the  long  lashes  shad- 
ing them  completely. 

"And  you*?"  I  asked,  disappointed.  "Do  you 
mean  to  let  me  go  out  alone?  " 

"  Would  you  think  it  best  for  us  to  go  together?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  the  guard  would  be  far  less  apt 
to  feel  suspicion  if  I  was  accompanied  by  a  lady 
whom  they  had  already  passed;  they  would  recognize 
you." 

The  lashes  uplifted  again,  and  her  eyes  flashed 
into  mine. 

"  Then  I  will  go  also,"  she  said  simply,  "  for  I 
can  guide  you  through  the  camp.  I  —  I  only  thought 


The  Lady  Chooses  249 

perhaps  you  might  prefer  to  make  the  trial  alone. 
Draw  the  cap  visor  lower  down  over  your  eyes  — 
we  may  meet  with  someone  who  saw  you  brought  in 
as  a  prisoner.  That  is  better;  now  we  will  chat  as 
we  go  —  about  —  about  West  Point.  Do  you  re- 
member, Lieutenant,  that  last  cadet  dance"?  how 
beautifully  the  moon  reflected  on  the  Hudson?  Why, 
that  was  the  night  when  I  first  met  you  —  wasn't 
it"?  I  believe  I  like  the  cadet  gray  better  than  the 
blue.  Captain  Fox  tells  me  —  " 

We  turned  the  corner  into  the  wide  entrance  hall, 
strolling  slowly  side  by  side,  her  face  turned  up- 
ward to  mine.  Apparently  my  eyes  were  upon  her, 
and  I  made  some  inane  response  to  her  words,  yet  I 
saw  the  sentries  at  the  door  come  stiffly  to  attention, 
and  then  cross  their  musket  barrels  to  bar  our  exit. 
I  halted  as  though  in  surprise. 

"  Are  there  any  new  orders'?  "  I  asked  in  tone  of 
authority.  "  You  remember  passing  us  in,  do  you 
not?  " 

"  We  passed  the  lady,  sir,"  the  older  man  an- 
swered respectfully,  "  but  no  officer." 

"Ah,  yes,  I  see;  you  are  not  the  same  men  who 
were  on  guard  when  I  arrived.  I  am  Lieutenant 
Mann,  of  General  Ramsay's  staff,  and  have  been 
with  Colonel  Pickney.  The  lady  will  vouch  for 
me." 


250  The  Red  Mist 


"  Yes,  sir,"  yet  with  a  lingering  doubt  in  his  voice. 
"  No  doubt  it  is  all  right,  sir;  but  the  orders  are  very 
strict  tonight.  If  you  have  not  the  word  I  shall  have 
to  call  the  sergeant." 

"Quite  right,  my  man;  but  that  is  not  neces- 
sary," and  I  took  a  step  nearer  and  bent  my  head. 
"  Kanawah." 

The  two  men  shouldered  their  muskets,  and  the 
older  one  brought  his  hand  up  in  salute. 

"  Pass,  sir,"  he  said  soberly,  and  stood  aside.  We 
went  down  the  broad  steps,  dimly  lighted  by  a  dis- 
tant fire,  my  hand  touching  her  arm.  At  the  foot  a 
slight  pressure  served  to  guide  me  to  the  left,  and 
we  passed  into  the  deeper  shadow  of  the  building 
without  exchanging  a  word.  The  infantry  camp  lay 
between  us  and  the  road,  while,  on  the  side  of  the 
building  where  we  were,  were  parked  the  empty 
wagons  of  a  forage  train.  Teamsters,  no  doubt,  were 
asleep  beneath  the  covers,  but  there  were  no  guards 
visible  close  to  where  we  halted  in  the  darkness.  The 
campfire  in  front  yielded  just  enough  light  to  en- 
able me  to  study  out  our  surroundings.  The  band 
still  played  noisily  in  the  courtroom  above,  the  gay 
lilt  of  the  dance  music  floating  out  through  open 
windows.  The  hour  must  be  nearly  midnight,  how- 
ever, and  the  merrymaking  would  soon  be  ended. 
The  camp  was  quiet,  the  soldiers  apparently  sleep- 


The  Lady  Chooses  251 

ing  on  the  ground.  I  could  perceive  only  a  few 
tents,  showing  white  in  the  firelight,  but  the  figures 
of  sentries  appeared  here  and  there,  slowly  pacing 
their  beats.  An  oil  street  lamp  in  front  of  the  hotel 
gave  dim  view  in  that  direction  through  the  tangle 
of  wagons  parked  between.  A  footpath  led  straight 
across,  to  a  gate  in  the  white  picket  fence,  and  a  mo- 
tionless figure  stood  there  silhouetted  against  the 
light.  I  could  not  be  sure,  yet  was  convinced  he 
must  be  a  soldier  on  guard.  Had  I  been  alone  I 
should  have  crept  forward  beneath  the  shadow  of 
the  wagons,  and  thus  endeavored  to  slip  by  unseen, 
but  I  was  conscious  of  the  hand  which  grasped  my 
sleeve,  and  my  eyes  fell  to  her  face. 

"  You  are  my  guide  tonight,"  I  whispered  softly. 
"  Have  you  some  plan  already  devised?  There 
must  be  instant  action." 

"  Hardly  that;  this  has  all  occurred  so  quickly,  so 
unexpectedly,  I  have  had  no  time  in  which  to  think. 
Only  we  —  we  cannot  lose  a  moment.  Those  men 
will  surely  be  found  soon,  and  —  and  the  dance 
must  be  nearly  over.  Isn't  it  best  to  go  straight 
ahead,  and  run  the  chance?  " 

"  Past  the  guard  yonder?  " 

"Yes;  I  am  not  greatly  afraid  of  him!  we  have 
the  word,  and  Captain  Fox  and  I  were  together 
when  I  passed  here  before.  He  will  remember  me, 


252  The  Red  Mist 

and  have  no  suspicion.  Only  there  may  be  officers 
sitting  on  the  veranda  of  the  hotel." 

"  It  looks  dark,  and  deserted,  from  here;  and  the 
hour  is  late." 

"True;  I  can  perceive  no  movement,  and  I  sup- 
pose all  who  are  not  on  duty  are  at  the  dance.  Be- 
sides there  is  no  other  way  in  which  you  can  attain 
the  stables.  I  —  I  am  ready  to  try  it  —  are  you?  " 

I  answered  with  the  pressure  of  my  hand,  on  the 
fingers  clasping  my  sleeve.  There  was  no  response ; 
neither  were  they  withdrawn.  She  gazed  steadily 
down  the  path  in  the  direction  of  the  sentinel,  drew 
a  long  breath,  and  stepped  bravely  forward.  The 
way  was  clear,  easily  followed  even  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  I  walked  close  beside  her.  Within  a  few 
yards  of  the  fellow  she  gave  vent  to  a  little  ripple  of 
laughter,  barely  enough  to  attract  attention,  and 
again  slipped  her  hand  into  the  support  of  my  arm. 

"  That  was  the  funniest  thing,  Lieutenant,"  she 
exclaimed  gaily.  "  I  have  laughed  since  every  time 
I  have  thought  of  how  he  looked  when  he  fell. 
Really  I  don't  think  I  ever  met  a  more  awkward 
person  —  certainly  never  danced  with  one.  Ah,  sen- 
try, has  Captain  Fox  returned  yet"?  " 

"  Not  along  this  path,  Miss,"  he  answered  respect- 
fully, touching  his  cap  in  salute  to  me.  The  sol- 
dier stood  at  attention,  but  made  no  effort  whatever 


The  Lady  Chooses  253 

to  bar  our  progress;  he  was  a  middle-aged  man,  with 
a  chin  beard,  his  voice  a  soft  drawl. 

"  When  he  returns,"  I  said  quietly,  "  please  tell 
him  that  Lieutenant  Mann  is  waiting  to  see  him  at 
the  hotel." 

"Yes,  sir;  Lieutenant  Mann*?" 

"  Of  General  Ramsay's  staff,"  added  the  girl 
pleasantly.  "  He  may  not  remember  your  name, 
Lieutenant." 

"  Yes,  of  Ramsay's  —  you'll  not  forget?  " 

"  No,  sir;  I've  got  it  all  right." 

We  strolled  on  slowly,  passing  directly  beneath 
the  glare  of  the  lamp.  We  attempted  to  talk,  but  I 
retain  no  memory  of  a  single  word  that  was  uttered. 
My  heart  was  beating  like  an  engine,  and  my  throat 
was  dry,  the  fingers  of  one  hand  gripping  the  butt 
of  a  revolver  in  my  belt.  I  was  dimly  aware  of  the 
tremor  in  her  voice,  the  pressing  closer  to  me  of  her 
slender  figure.  We  passed  out  beyond  the  glow  of 
the  revealing  light,  to  where  our  eyes  were  able  to 
sweep  the  darkened  porch.  There  were  a  dozen  chairs 
standing  back  of  the  rail,  but  none  were  occupied. 
She  gave  a  little  sob  of  relief,  both  hands  nervously 
grasping  my  sleeve. 

"  Thank  God !  "  she  said  fervently,  "  now  if  we 
only  have  five  minutes  more !  " 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A   STEP   NEARER 

HE  stables?"  I  asked.     "What  horses 
are  there"?  " 

"Officers'    mounts;   but   there   were 
several  others  tied  at  the  hitch  rail  an 
hour  ago.     Two  or  three  civilians  rode  over  from 
Beckley  to  attend  the  dance.     These  will  be  easier 
to  get,  as  they  are  not  guarded." 
"You  saw  them?" 

"  When  they  arrived  —  yes ;  they  appeared  to  be 
good  stock;  better  even  than  the  government  horses." 
I   could  perceive   them   dimly,   now   they  were 
pointed  out,  from  where  we  skulked  in  the  shadow 
of  the  building,  but  they  were  so  bunched  together 
it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  the  number. 
"  They  will  be  all  equipped?  " 
"  Yes  —  they  were  simply  ridden  in,  and  tied. 
I  was  sitting  on  the  porch  here  with  Captain  Fox,  and 
do  not  remember  seeing  one  unsaddled." 

I  took  a  step  or  two  forward,  circling  the  house, 
so  as  to  better  approach  the  animals  along  the 
shadow  of  an  orchard  fence.  I  knew  she  followed 
close  at  my  heels,  although  I  did  not  glance  around, 

254 


A  Step  Nearer  255 

my  whole  attention  concentrated  on  the  work  before 
me.  I  saw  nothing  to  cause  alarm,  and  heard  no  un- 
usual sound.  I  do  not  know  yet  where  the  fellow 
came  from,  but  he  must  have  been  crouching  down 
within  the  shadow  of  the  cellar  door,  which  stood 
wide  open.  What  he  was,  who  he  was,  I  shall  never 
know,  nor  the  cause  of  his  savage  attack.  He  was  a 
soldier,  with  cartridge  belt  on,  and  musket  in  hand 
as  though  on  duty,  yet  if  he  was  a  guard  posted 
there,  why  did  he  fail  to  challenge*?  It  is  my  thought 
the  man  had  left  his  post  and  was  looting  the  cellar; 
perhaps  was  drunk,  and  mistook  me  for  an  officer 
who  had  discovered  him.  I  recall  pausing  an  in- 
stant, and  staring  down  the  dark  steps,  but  I  saw 
nothing,  and  passed  on.  I  could  not  have  taken  two 
steps,  when  Noreen  gave  utterance  to  a  sharp  cry, 
and,  instinctively,  I  sprang  swiftly  aside,  flinging  up 
an  arm  to  protect  my  head.  The  blow  struck  and 
glanced  off,  terribly  bruising  arm  and  shoulder,  the 
force  of  it  flinging  me  to  the  ground.  I  staggered 
to  my  knees,  jerking  a  revolver  from  the  belt,  my 
brain  dazed,  and  one  hand  numb  and  useless.  Before 
I  could  turn  entirely  about,  or  perceive  anything, 
there  sounded  a  muffled  oath  and  a  crash ;  then  I  had 
a  glimpse  of  the  girl  alone  leaning  above  the  open 
cellar-way.  I  managed  to  gain  my  feet,  and  get  close 
enough  to  touch  her  dress. 


256  The  Red  Mist 

"What  is  it?    What  has  happened?  " 

"  Oh !  "  she  started,  and  looked  at  me  scarce  able 
to  speak.  "  You  are  not  killed?  not  even  badly 
hurt?  " 

"  A  hard  crack  only;  I  cannot  move  my  arm.  It 
was  your  cry  which  saved  my  head.  Who  struck  the 
blow?  I  saw  nothing." 

"  A  soldier;  he  came  up  out  of  here,"  her  voice 
trembling.  "  I  do  not  think  he  saw  me  at  all.  He 
—  he  just  seemed  to  leap  forward  out  of  the  dark, 
and  struck  one  blow  with  his  musket  —  see,  it  lies 
here." 

"He  dropped  it,  and  ran?" 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  I  could  feel 
the  trembling  of  her  body. 

"  No !  I  —  I  do  not  know  how  it  happened. 
I  —  I  caught  hold  of  him  suddenly  from  behind  just 
as  he  struck.  That  —  that  must  have  frightened 
him,  for  —  for  he  reeled  back,  missed  his  footing, 
and  went  down.  He  —  he  just  swore  once,  and  I 
saw  his  face ;  then  his  gun  struck  against  me,  and  — 
and  he  tumbled  over  backward,  and  went  crunching 
against  something  down  there.  He  —  he  hasn't 
moved  since." 

I  waited  an  instant  listening,  conscious  of  the  pain 
in  my  arm,  and  more  fearful  that  the  noise  of  the 
encounter  had  reached  the  ears  of  the  guard  at  the 


A  Step  Nearer  257 

gate,  than  of  the  silent  form  below.  Then  I  crept 
down  the  steps,  until  I  touched  the  stone  slabs  at 
the  bottom  of  the  cellar.  I  had  to  feel  about  blindly 
in  the  darkness  to  locate  the  fellow,  but  the  first 
touch  of  his  flesh  told  me  he  was  dead.  He  lay  at 
full  length,  his  head  curled  to  one  side,  his  neck 
broken.  I  could  feel  the  buttons  on  his  uniform 
blouse,  the  bulge  of  his  cartridge  belt.  Without  a 
word  I  crawled  back  into  the  open  air,  and  got  a 
glimpse  of  her  frightened  face. 

"  The  fellow  is  dead,"  I  said  softly.  "  We  have 
no  cause  to  fear  him." 

"But  I  did  not  kill  him!  Why,  I  could  not;  he 
—  he  just  stepped  back,  and  fell." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  worry  about 
that,"  I  urged,  taking  her  hands  from  before  her 
face,  and  clasping  them  in  mine.  "  His  death  was 
an  accident,  although  his  attack  was  murderous 
enough,  and  he  deserved  his  fate." 

"  Was  —  was  he  a  soldier4?  " 

"  Yes,  an  infantry  private,  I  think.  Now  don't 
cry.  Listen  to  me,  your  nerves  are  all  unstrung; 
this  night's  work  has  been  too  much  for  you  —  too 
much  for  any  girl.  And  God  knows,  you  have  done 
enough  for  me  already.  Where  are  you  stopping? 
here  at  the  hotel?" 

"  Y  —  yes." 


258  The  Red  Mist 

"  Then  slip  inside  while  there  is  no  one  hanging 
around;  and  get  safely  to  your  own  room.  There  is 
nothing  more  you  can  do.  I  will  take  one  of  those 
horses  yonder,  and  be  off,  and  I  know  the  country 
well  enough  to  find  my  way.  Once  in  the  mountains 
I  shall  be  safe.  You  will  do  as  I  say?  " 

To  my  surprise  she  looked  straight  into  my  face, 
standing  motionless.  She  seemed  to  catch  her  breath, 
as  though  it  was  difficult  to  speak. 

"  You  mean  that*?  that  I  am  to  go  to  my  room"?  " 
she  asked  slowly. 

"  Certainly;  that  will  be  the  safest  and  best  thing 
for  you  to  do.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  grateful  I  am 
to  you;  nothing  I  can  ever  do  will  repay  the  service 
you  have  rendered  me.  You  are  a  wonderfully  brave 
girl." 

"  Do  you  think  so4?  Oh,  but  I  am  neither  brave, 
nor  wonderful.  I  have  scarcely  known  what  I  was 
doing;  it  didn't  seem  as  if  there  was  anything  else 
I  could  do.  But  I  know  now;  I  have  no  doubt  any 
more  —  unless  —  unless  you  refuse  to  let  me." 

"  I  refuse !  I  do  not  understand  what  I  could  re- 
fuse. All  that  remains  is  for  you  to  go  to  your 
room." 

"  But  if  I  do  not  go  there?  if  I  —  if  I  ride  away 
with  you !  " 

"  But,  Noreen,  that  would  not  be  right;  it  would 


A  Step  Nearer  259 

expose  you  to  terrible  danger.  Think  of  the  days  and 
nights  of  travel,  of  hiding  and  exposure,  before  I  can 
hope  to  attain  the  safety  of  the  Confederate  lines; 
and  there  is  no  need  of  such  a  sacrifice  —  you  will 
be  perfectly  safe  here." 

"How  will  I  be  safe  here?"  she  asked  indig- 
nantly. "  Do  you  suppose  they  will  spare  me,  merely 
because  I  am  a  woman1?  This  has  not  been  done  in 
secret;  there  are  too  many  who  know  my  part  in 
your  escape  to  ever  keep  the  truth  hidden.  Colonel 
Pickney  will  have  to  make  his  report,  and  shield 
himself  from  blame.  There  is  not  an  officer  here 
who  will  stand  openly  in  my  defense,  unless  it  be 
Captain  Fox,  and  he  could  not  help  me.  Is  it  under 
such  conditions  you  desire  I  remain  here?  " 

"  But  do  you  realize  what  going  with  me  will  in- 
evitably mean?  " 

"  Yes,  I  realize  —  not  only  the  peril  and  hardship, 
but  every  issue  involved.  I  made  my  choice  back 
in  the  courthouse.  It  is  too  late  to  withdraw." 

She  paused  as  though  unable  to  find  expression, 
breathing  heavily,  and  her  face  sank  until  I  could 
no  longer  see  her  eyes. 

"  When  —  when  I  told  Colonel  Pickney  that  — 
that  you  were  my  husband,"  she  faltered,  driven  to 
it  by  my  continued  silence,  "  I  spoke  hastily,  it  is 
true;  for  my  only  thought  just  then  was  the  necessity 


260  The  Red  Mist 

for  saving  your  life.  I  felt  that  —  that  I  could  do 
no  less,  and  —  and  I  desired  to  justify  my  action. 
They  —  they  had  to  know  why  I  did  it ;  do  you  not 
understand?  I  —  I  am  a  Union  woman;  they  have 
trusted  me  always,  these  men;  even  tonight  they  told 
me  the  countersign  because  of  confidence  in  my  loy- 
alty. I  —  I  was  the  daughter  of  an  officer  on  Gen- 
eral Ramsay's  staff.  I  could  not  let  those  men  think 
me  a  traitor.  I  —  I  had  to  tell  them  why  it  had 
become  my  duty  to  aid  you.  There  was  no  other 
possible  way;  no  other  reason  which  would  justify 
me  in  such  an  act;  but  —  but  that  confession  left 
me  utterly  in  your  power." 

"  In  my  power,  Noreen !  Surely  you  do  not  think 
that  I  will  ever  take  advantage?  that  I  will  ever 
misconstrue  your  real  purpose?" 

"No!  but  will  you  live  up  to  the  obligation? 
Oh,  you  do  not  see  the  situation  at  all!  When  I 
said  you  were  my  husband  I  threw  myself  on  your 
protection.  I  —  I  burned  the  boats.  I  am  all  alone 
now,  unless  —  unless  you  stand  by  me.  My  father 
is  dead;  there  is  not  one  person  anywhere  to  whom 
I  can  go.  If  I  remain  here  I  shall  be  placed  under 
i  arrest  before  daylight  —  charged  with  aiding  your 
escape;  perhaps  charged  with  the  death  of  this  sol- 
dier —  and  I  have  no  friends,  no  defense.  Tom,  I 
must  go  on  with  you !  " 


A  Step  Nearer  261 

I  saw  it  all  clearly  enough  now,  although  her  sit- 
uation was  not  quite  as  desperate  to  my  mind  as  it 
appeared  to  her.  Yet  it  might  result  even  as  she 
feared,  for  Pickney  would  certainly  be  furious  at 
the  indignity  of  his  treatment,  and  Raymond  was 
of  a  disposition  to  seek  revenge;  while  all  I  knew  re- 
garding Ramsay  was,  that  he  was  a  rigid  discipli- 
narian, little  given  to  acts  of  mercy.  I  could  not 
ignore  her  plea,  nor  would  I  misconstrue  it.  It  was 
fear  which  thus  drove  her  to  me;  she  had  more  con- 
fidence in  my  kindness  than  in  their  justice  —  that 
was  the  whole  story.  The  poor  girl  was  so  fright- 
ened she  had  chosen  blindly  —  she  could  perceive 
nothing,  realize  nothing,  except  the  necessity  for 
immediate  escape.  My  own  resolve  was  instant. 

"  Do  not  say  any  more,  Noreen,"  I  said  soberly, 
but  making  no  attempt  to  touch  her.  "  I  understand 
now.  You  mean  you  wish  to  ride  with  me  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"It  will  be  a  hard  journey,  and  I  cannot  guess 
the  end.  But  you  trust  me  fully?  " 

"  Yes." 

"We  are  to  be  friends,  real  friends?" 

"  I  trust  you;  is  not  that  enough?  All  I  ask  now 
is,  do  not  leave  me  here  alone." 

Her  fingers  clasped  my  coat,  her  eyes  suddenly 
lifted  to  my  face. 


262  The  Red  Mist 

"  Promise  me  that,  Tom,"  she  begged  brokenly. 
"  It  will  be  all  I  ask." 

"  Surely;  we  will  go  together,"  and  I  gripped  her 
hands  tightly  in  mine.  "  Whatever  happens  I  will 
do  my  best.  But  we  must  go  at  once." 

"  Yes,  and  —  and  thank  you." 

We  crept  forward  along  the  shadow  of  the  orchard 
fence,  until  we  mingled  with  the  horses  fastened  at 
the  hitching  rail.  There  were  seven  altogether  tied 
there,  and  I  selected  among  them,  as  best  I  could 
in  the  darkness,  two  that  seemed  well  adapted  to 
our  purpose.  I  helped  her  silently  into  the  saddle, 
thrusting  one  of  my  revolvers  into  the  empty  holster, 
and  then  mounted  myself.  There  had  been  no  noise, 
no  disturbance,  and  the  sleeping  camp  behind  re- 
mained quiet.  Only  one  light  gleamed  from  an 
upper  window  of  the  hotel,  and  we  were  safely 
beyond  its  reflection.  The  girl  was  but  a  dim  shape, 
the  riding  cloak  she  wore  completely  hiding  her 
form.  I  could  no  longer  distinguish  the  sound  of 
distant  music,  but  the  courthouse  was  still  aglow. 

"Which  way  had  we  better  go*?"  I  asked,  my 
face  close,  our  horses  touching. 

"Along  the  south  road  at  first;  there  is  a  cut-off 
just  back  of  the  old  school." 

"And  the  pickets'?    do  you  know  where  they 
are  posted?  " 


A  Step  Nearer  263 

"  At  the  ford  of  the  Green  Briar  —  the  main 
ford." 

"  There  are  none  at  Benton?  " 

"No;  I  do  not  think  they  even  know  the  river 
is  fordable  there;  it  is  not  on  the  maps." 

We  rode  forward  slowly,  my  hand  on  her  bridle 
rein,  keeping  in  the  deeper  shadows  along  the  side  of 
the  road,  until  we  passed  beyond  the  last  house  of 
the  village.  I  felt  no  fear  of  encountering  the  pick- 
ets posted  at  the  Green  Briar,  for  the  wood  trail 
she  mentioned,  leading  off  just  this  side  of  the  old 
red  schoolhouse,  would  take  us  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
east.  If  we  could  attain  Benton's  Crossing  before 
daylight  our  chances  of  getting  hidden  in  the  moun- 
tains were  most  excellent.  If  the  camp  was  not 
alarmed  for  another  half  hour,  our  pursuers  would 
be  given  a  hard  task.  Strange,  though,  that  the  Fed- 
eral scouts  had  never  located  the  Benton  ford.  To 
be  sure  it  was  narrow,  and  of  no  value  in  high 
water,  yet  an  ideal  place  for  raiding  parties  to  cross, 
and  all  those  hills  beyond  were  full  of  guerrilla 
bands  eager  to  strike  quick  and  get  safely  away. 
That  they  dared  to  attack  small  bodies  of  troops, 
and  especially  poorly  guarded  wagon  trains,  had 
been  demonstrated  more  than  once,  and  this  secret 
ford  gave  them  easy  opportunity.  The  Cowans  cer- 
tainly knew  of  its  feasibility,  and  the  wonder  was 


264  The  Red  Mist 


they  had  never  utilized  it  before.  The  longer  I 
thought  the  more  I  began  to  dread  the  unknown 
dangers  ahead  —  the  gauntlet  we  must  run  before 
attaining  the  Confederate  lines.  We  could  baffle 
pursuit,  but  if  once  we  came  into  contact  with  those 
irregulars  of  the  mountains  —  merciless,  irresponsi- 
ble —  no  one  could  predict  the  result.  And  every 
mile  of  the  way  we  must  now  traverse  lay  directly 
through  their  country  —  a.  region  bare,  inhospitable, 
open  to  all  the  nameless  horror  of  civil  war,  where 
men  fought  like  wolves,  and  woman  suspected 
every  stranger.  I  glanced  aside  at  the  girl,  riding  so 
silently  at  my  side,  but  she  was  a  mere  shadow  in  that 
darkness.  Should  I  tell  her  the  fear  that  almost  par- 
alyzed me,  now  that  I  faced  it  clearly4?  Should  I 
compel  her  to  return,  and  permit  me  to  go  on  alone? 
I  could  skulk  along  through  the  night,  discard  my 
horse,  travel  afoot,  and  thus  avoid  encountering  any 
of  those  villains.  I  was  myself  a  mountaineer,  and 
knew  the  secret  trails  —  alone,  on  foot,  with  no  one 
else  to  care  for,  or  defend,  I  could  discover  some  un- 
guarded passage.  But  with  her  beside  me,  the  two 
of  us  mounted,  such  a  feat  was  almost  impossible. 
I  must  find  her  food  and  shelter,  and  we  could  not 
travel  on  horseback  without  leaving  a  trail  uncon- 
cealed. To  be  sure  I  knew  her  of  old;  that  she  was 
strong,  resourceful,  fearless  —  yet  she  was  a  woman 


A  Step  Nearer  265 

to  be  protected  from  insult,  to  be  guarded  against 
exposure;  more,  she  was  the  woman  I  loved. 

But  would  she  be  in  any  less  danger  if  I  compelled 
her  to  return  to  Lewisburg*?  To  be  sure  nothing 
worse  than  imprisonment  would  be  her  fate  at  the 
hands  of  the  Federal  authorities  —  but  she  would 
be  exposed  to  indignities,  to  almost  certain  persecu- 
tion from  Raymond.  If  I  understood  the  inner  na- 
ture of  the  fellow  his  one  thought  now  would  be 
revenge,  and  he  would  halt  at  nothing  in  an  attempt 
to  attain  it.  I  believed  she  feared  him  more  than 
all  else;  that  she  would  prefer  the  exposure  and  dan- 
ger of  the  mountains  rather  than  remain  alone  within 
the  scope  of  his  power. 

"  Noreen,"  I  said,  turning  my  face  toward  her. 
"  Do  you  really  think  it  best  to  try  this  ride  with 
me?" 

"  You  do  not  wish  me  to  go?  "  she  asked,  as 
instantly  reining  up.  "  You  want  me  to  return"?  " 

"  No,  not  that.  I  have  no  thought,  but  for  your 
own  good.  Only  do  you  understand  the  perils 
through  which  we  must  pass  in  those  mountains'?" 

"  Yes,  I  do  understand,"  she  answered  soberly, 
"  and  I  comprehend,  as  you  cannot,  the  danger  of 
my  returning  to  Lewisburg.  I  will  never  go  back 
there ;  but,  if  you  think  it  best  for  us  to  part,  I  will 
endeavor  to  reach  Charleston  alone." 


266  The  Red  Mist 

"  You  would  rather  go  on  with  me"?  " 

"  I  made  that  choice,  but  if  you  consider  me  a 
burden  —  " 

"  No,  it  is  not  that,  Noreen,"  I  interrupted, 
touched  by  the  regretful  tone  of  her  voice.  "  It  was 
of  you  I  was  thinking;  not  myself.  Then  we  go 
on  together4? " 

She  was  silent,  her  eyes  on  the  darkness  ahead. 

"  It  must  be  your  decision,"  I  insisted. 

"  I  made  my  choice  an  hour  ago,"  she  answered 
frankly. 

I  waited  an  instant,  thinking  she  might  say  more, 
but  she  sat  motionless  in  the  saddle.  Just  what  her 
decision  signified  I  could  not  judge.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  between  two  dangers  she  had  simply  chosen  the 
one  she  deemed  to  be  the  lesser.  It  was  not  affection 
for  me,  but  fear  of  others,  which  urged  her  forward. 
Grasping  her  bridle  rein  I  rode  on  through  the  dark 
without  another  word.  The  decision  had  been  made ; 
now  we  must  both  of  us  abide  the  consequences. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  RAIDERS   PASS 


T  THE  schoolhouse,  appearing  a  mere 
blur  on  the  side  of  the  hill,  we  turned 
west,  following  a  narrow  weed-grown 
bridle  path  through  a  tangle  of  second 
growth  timber.  Seemingly  no  one  had  traveled  this 
way  for  months,  and  I  had  to  dismount  in  order  to 
discover  the  choked  passage.  It  was  small  wonder 
its  existence  had  been  overlooked  by  hurrying  Fed- 
eral scouts,  and  left  unguarded.  Benton's  cabin  had 
been  burned  six  months  ago,  Noreen  told  me,  and 
the  old  man  was  believed  to  be  dead.  Few  others 
ever  used  this  cut-off,  or  had  occasion  to  pass  this 
way,  and  the  weeds  had  quickly  taken  possession. 
I  was  obliged  to  feel  for  the  worn  trail,  as  it  wound 
here  and  there  along  the  slope  of  the  hill,  and  then 
finally  down  a  shallow  depression  toward  the  river 
bank.  The  horses  stepped  cautiously,  pressed  closely 
together  in  the  narrow  rut,  and  the  only  noise  was  the 
occasional  stumble  of  a  hoof.  Where  the  cabin 
formerly  stood  on  a  point  of  land,  nothing  re- 
mained visible  but  a  gaunt  chimney,  and  the  rem- 
nant of  a  rail  fence.  I  skirted  this  latter,  guided  by 

267 


268  The  Red  Mist 

the  shining  of  the  water  of  the  river  beyond,  and 
thus  we  came  down  to  the  shore.  My  memory  of 
the  spot  was  hazy  and  uncertain,  and  I  stared  across 
at  the  black  woods  opposite,  shading  my  eyes  in  an 
endeavor  to  distinguish  some  forgotten  landmark. 

"Have  you  ever  crossed  here'?"  I  asked  doubt- 
fully. "  I  scarcely  remember  where  the  ford  lies." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  leaning  forward,  "  with  my 
father  a  year  ago.  Benton  came  down  and  showed 
us  the  course ;  but  I  did  not  think  much  then  of  what 
he  said.  We  took  the  water  directly  in  front  of  the 
house,  here  at  the  end  of  the  point,  and  —  oh,  yes ; 
there  was  a  dead  tree  with  one  great  limb  forking 
out  on  the  other  bank,  we  were  to  aim  directly  for. 
Can  you  see  anything  like  that*?  " 

I  hollowed  my  hands  and  looked,  but  nothing 
along  the  opposite  shore  appeared  with  any  dis- 
tinctness —  it  was  a  mere  blur  of  trees. 

"Was  the  ford  straight  across?" 

"I  think  slightly  to  the  left;  another  point  juts 
out  there.  See,  the  river  is  narrower  right  across  in 
that  direction,"  and  she  pointed.  "  I  am  sure  we 
only  partly  met  the  current.  There  is  something 
dark  against  the  sky  now;  higher  up  above  the  tree 
line.  I  am  not  sure  that  is  the  dead  limb,  but  it 
must  be  almost  directly  in  line.  Do  you  see  what 
I  mean?" 


The  Raiders  Pass  269 

"  Yes;  at  least  I  imagine  so.    We  must  risk  it." 

I  swung  up  into  the  saddle,  and  resumed  my  grasp 
of  her  horse's  rein. 

"  We'll  ride  together,  but  keep  your  feet  free  in 
the  stirrups.  If  your  horse  misses  his  footing  let  go 
of  everything  else,  and  cling  to  his  tail;  he'll  tow 
you  ashore,  and  you  used  to  swim." 

"So  you  remember  my  accomplishments'?  I  am 
not  in  the  least  frightened.  Don't  worry  about  me," 
and  she  held  out  her  hand.  "  You'll  not  find  me  a 
bad  soldier." 

"  I  am  certain  of  that  —  not  if  you  are  still  the 
same  girl  I  played  with." 

Her  hand  was  in  mine,  and  was  not  withdrawn. 

"I  —  hardly  think  I  am,"  she  answered  soberly, 
a  little  catch  in  her  voice.  "  I  am  not  a  girl  at  all 
any  more,  but  I  keep  something  of  the  same  spirit, 
I  hope." 

I  have  never  understood  what  spell  there  was 
about  her  to  keep  me  silent.  I  had  never  before 
lacked  audacity,  yet  I  dare  not  speak  the  words  that 
were  on  my  lips.  Whether  the  personality  of  the 
girl  held  me  embarrassed,  or  the  peculiarity  of  our 
relationship,  I  do  not  know.  Surely  there  was  noth- 
ing in  her  manner,  or  words,  to  indicate  such  a  thing, 
yet  the  thought  had  taken  firm  possession  of  my  mind 
that  she  was  the  victim  of  circumstances;  that  she 


270  The  Red  Mist 


accompanied  me  merely  to  escape  from  threatened 
danger;  that  her  graciousness  was  largely  acting,  and 
that  she  would  remain  a  companion  only  so  long  as 
I  continued  respectfully  attentive.  I  knew  I  loved 
her;  I  felt  now  that  I  had  loved  her  ever  since  we 
were  boy  and  girl  together.  The  touch  of  her  hand 
sent  a  wild  thrill  through  me,  and  my  heart  throbbed 
to  the  memory  that  she  was  actually  my  wife.  But  I 
dare  not  permit  her  to  even  guess  the  truth,  for  I  felt 
that  she  regretted  the  weakness  of  that  moment  and 
would  resent  the  slightest  reference  to  it.  I  could 
only  hope  that  time,  and  courtesy  combined,  would 
awaken  her  interest  in  me.  If  I  could  serve  her 
quietly,  the  very  love  I  gave  might  arouse  response 
—  but  not  yet. 

I  released  her  hand,  venturing  upon  no  reply,  and 
we  rode  down  the  steep  bank  into  the  black  water. 
The  horses  advanced  slowly,  cautiously,  and  I  made 
little  effort  to  guide  them,  although  from  that  lower 
level,  I  felt  assured  I  saw  the  fork  of  the  dead  tree 
silhouetted  against  the  sky  above  the  opposite  bank. 
There  were  a  few  stars  out,  and  their  light  reflected 
along  the  surface  of  the  water,  the  faint  gleam  more 
confusing  than  helpful.  The  current  was  strong, 
but  steady,  and  the  stream  deepened  rapidly,  until 
we  were  obliged  to  lift  our  feet  to  keep  them  dry.  The 
bottom  seemed  to  be  rock  strewn,  and  occasionally 


The  Raiders  Pass  271 

the  horses  stumbled,  splashing  us  with  water;  once 
her  mount  stepped  into  a  hole,  and  plunged  desper- 
ately to  regain  footing,  but  the  girl  never  uttered  a 
sound,  and  my  grip  held.  Half-way  across  I  was 
certain  as  to  the  dead  tree,  and  aimed  our  course 
straight  by  its  guidance.  The  sullen  sweep  of  the 
water,  out  of  the  darkness  above,  into  the  darkness 
below,  and  the  brooding  silence,  lay  hold  on  my 
nerves.  The  black  shore  we  were  approaching  was 
full  of  mystery,  forest  shrouded. 

"What  is  over  there4?"  I  asked,  unable  to  keep 
still,  and  feeling  the  companionship  of  my  own  voice. 

"Nothing;  just  a  trail  through  a  strip  of  woods 
up  a  long  hill.  The  river  road  is  only  a  few  rods 
back  —  the  road  to  Hot  Springs." 

"  There  is  no  house  near*?  " 

"  Only  the  old  Cowan  place,  two  miles  south, 
but  that  has  been  burned  down." 

"  And  to  the  northeast4?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  that  way." 

Nor  had  I,  yet  it  seemed  to  me  that  was  by  far 
the  safer  course  for  us  to  follow.  Cowan's  gang  was 
to  the  south,  their  headquarters  somewhere  in  Mon- 
roe County.  No  doubt  the  range  of  mountains  we 
must  cross  would  prove  the  rendezvous  of  other 
bands  no  less  dangerous,  but  we  would  be  safer  with 
any  of  them  than  in  the  hands  of  Cowan.  Besides 


272  The  Red  Mist 

that  upper  country  was  occasionally  patrolled  by 
troops,  and  the  guerrillas  would  be  less  aggressive  in 
consequence.  It  would  be  comparatively  easy  to 
avoid  the  soldiers,  for  we  would  not  attempt  to  travel 
by  daylight. 

The  water  began  to  shallow,  and  we  drew  in  un- 
der the  shadows  of  the  wooded  bank.  It  was  so  dark 
I  could  discover  no  break  in  the  forest  growth,  and 
was  obliged  to  dismount,  and  wade  about  on  foot 
before  I  could  locate  the  narrow  path  that  led  up 
out  of  the  water.  This  mounted  steeply,  a  mere 
gash  cut  through  the  tangled  undergrowth,  com- 
pelling us  to  advance  in  single  file,  I  ahead  leading 
my  horse.  The  passage  was  so  narrow  and  rough  that 
caution  was  impossible  in  that  darkness;  we  must 
venture,  and  trust  to  luck.  So  we  pushed  our  way 
through  to  the  top  of  the  rise,  and  came  suddenly  to 
an  open  space,  where  a  dozen  acres  had  been  cleared, 
the  stumps  of  trees  still  standing  in  a  field  of  weeds. 
I  would  have  plunged  straight  ahead  had  not  Noreen 
halted  me  with  a  low  cry  of  warning  while  we  were 
yet  hidden  within  the  wood  shadow. 

"  There  is  a  man  over  yonder,"  she  said  in  a 
breathless  whisper.  "  Ay,  more  —  see !  They  come 
toward  us." 

I  was  not  sure  I  saw,  yet  I  backed  the  horses  into 
the  thicket,  and  stood  at  their  heads,  gripping  their 


The  Raiders  Pass  273 

nostrils.  Norecn  slipped  from  her  saddle,  and  joined 
me,  peering  out  through  the  interlaced  branches. 
Over  her  shoulder  I  glimpsed  a  section  of  the  open 
field,  and  saw  the  dim,  indistinct  shadows  advancing. 
They  were  men  on  foot,  walking  so  closely  bunched 
as  to  make  it  impossible  to  distinguish  their  number. 
The  leader,  a  yard  or  two  in  advance,  apparently 
knew  the  way  well,  and  the  others  pressed  on  after 
him  across  the  open  ground  almost  on  a  dog  trot. 
Indeed,  they  were  upon  us  before  we  gained  more 
than  a  swift  glimpse  of  them,  plunging  into  the 
narrow  opening  that  led  down  to  the  river.  There 
was  no  attempt  at  silence,  their  hurrying  feet  stir- 
ring up  the  dead  leaves,  and  voices  calling  out  warn- 
ings along  the  line,  or  raised  in  sudden  profanity. 
The  noise  thus  made,  saved  us  from  discovery,  the 
horses  moving  restlessly  in  spite  of  our  efforts  at  con- 
trol; but  without  suspicion  the  file  swept  past, 
scarcely  a  dozen  feet  from  where  we  stood,  and  dis- 
appeared in  the  dense  blackness  below.  I  counted 
thirty-three  men,  vague,  shapeless  shadows,  each 
bearing  a  gun,  and,  as  the  last  straggler  crashed  by, 
and  disappeared,  I  felt  Noreen's  hands  clasp  my 
arm,  and  glanced  at  her. 

"  They  have  all  gone,"  I  said  reassuringly. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  her  words  a  whisper.  "  Do  you 
know  who  they  are?  " 


274  The  Red  Mist 

"  Only  to  make  a  guess.  They  were  shadows 
rather  than  men  —  but  they  were  not  soldiers." 

"  That  was  Cowan's  gang,"  she  said  positively. 
"  It  was  Anse  in  the  lead." 

"  How  in  Heaven's  name  do  you  know  that*?  " 
I  asked  astounded.  "  Can  you  see  in  the  dark"?  " 

"  I  recognized  him  out  yonder  in  the  open.  I 
knew  his  hat,  and  the  way  he  walked.  Their  leader 
was  Anse  Cowan." 

I  waited  an  instant  listening,  and  in  the  silence  we 
could  hear  the  splashing  of  water  as  the  fellows 
plunged  forward  into  the  river.  One  voice  spoke 
loud  enough  to  reach  us  clearly,  and  was  recognized. 

"  That  was  Anse,"  I  acknowledged.  "  What  can 
those  fellows  be  after  —  the  picket  guard  below?  " 

"They  would  not  need  so  many  men  for  that, 
would  they?"  hesitatingly.  "Perhaps  they  are 
seeking  me." 

"  You !  Do  you  imagine  they  would  dare  invade 
the  very  Federal  camp  for  such  a  purpose?  " 

"  They  have  done  things  fully  as  desperate,"  she 
insisted.  "  If  some  spy  has  brought  word  of  the  situ- 
ation, there  would  not  be  any  great  danger.  There 
are  no  guards  about  the  hotel,  and  they  could  raid  it 
swiftly  and  get  away  without  alarming  the  sentries 
at  the  courthouse.  There  is  still  time  before  day- 
break." 


The  Raiders  Pass  275 

I  laughed  at  the  thought. 

"  I  hope  your  theory  is  true,"  I  said,  "  for  it  will 
leave  us  an  open  road.  'Twas  luck  we  did  not  meet 
the  fellows  below.  Come,  Noreen,  we  cannot  wait 
here  speculating;  we'll  make  good  use  of  those  two 
hours." 

I  led  the  horses  into  the  open,  and  helped  her  up 
into  the  saddle.  Her  hand  as  I  touched  it,  was  cold 
and  wet. 

"  You  are  frightened,"  I  whispered,  "  but  the  dan- 
ger is  past." 

"  Oh,  I  know;  but  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  dread 
that  man.  Even  as  a  child  I  feared  him,  and  his 
father  —  and  —  and  now  —  "  she  shivered  as  though 
from  chill. 

"  You  are  safe  enough  out  of  his  clutches  at  last. 
They  are  afoot,  and  can  never  overtake  us.  Don't 
lose  your  nerve,  Noreen." 

I  mounted  my  own  horse,  and  we  rode  out  boldly 
across  the  open  field.  There  was  a  narrow  fringe  of 
trees  guarding  the  outer  edge,  and  beyond  these  we 
came  to  the  Hot  Springs  pike,  clearly  visible  beneath 
the  soft  gleam  of  the  stars.  Satisfied  that  all  imme- 
diate danger  had  been  left  behind,  and  eager  to  ad- 
vance as  far  as  possible  before  daylight,  I  urged  the 
horses  into  swifter  stride.  It  was,  as  I  remembered, 
forty  miles  to  Hot  Springs  over  a  mountain  road.  If 


276  The  Red  Mist 

we  could  make  ten  of  these  before  we  were  obliged 
to  seek  shelter,  it  would  bring  us  well  into  the  foot- 
hills of  the  Alleghanies,  with  plenty  of  hiding  places 
near  by  —  ay !  and  there  must  be  cabins  also  back 
in  those  valleys  where  food  could  be  obtained.  With 
Anse  Cowan,  and  his  crew,  off  on  an  expedition  in 
the  opposite  direction,  I  felt  a  confidence  which 
yielded  fresh  audacity  —  it  was  going  to  be  easier 
than  I  had  supposed.  Another  night  —  our  horses 
rested  and  fed  —  would  bring  us  safely  into  Hot 
Springs,  and  beyond  that  point  the  road  would  be 
comparatively  clear. 

The  pike  had  been  well  built,  and  was  still  in 
good  condition.  Armies  had  not  marched  this  way, 
and  the  surface  was  unrutted  by  cannon  wheels,  or 
ploughed  up  by  cavalry  hoofs.  No  doubt  forage 
trains  had  traversed  it  from  end  to  end,  and  many 
a  scouting  party  of  troopers,  but  these  had  left  few 
signs  of  their  passage.  We  rode  swiftly,  the  star- 
gleam  sufficient  for  guidance.  Noreen  did  not  speak, 
did  not  even  glance  toward  me,  her  horse  keeping 
even  stride  with  mine,  her  slender  figure,  shapeless 
in  its  draping  cavalry  cape,  bent  slightly  forward. 
The  road  lay  like  a  white  ribbon  between  its  fringe 
of  trees,  winding  about  to  avoid  the  hills;  once,  afar 
off  to  the  left,  I  caught  the  glimmer  of  distant  water. 

I  know  not  how  long  we  rode,  or  how  far,  for  my 


The  Raiders  Pass  277 

mind  had  drifted  into  a  review  of  the  night's  adven- 
tures, and  a  plan  for  the  morrow.  We  met  with  no 
one,  heard  no  noise  except  the  steady  pounding  of 
our  horses'  hoofs.  I  do  not  recall  that  we  exchanged  a 
word,  except  once,  when  an  oddly  shaped  stump  by 
the  roadside  caused  me  to  pull  up  suddenly,  believ- 
ing I  saw  the  crouching  figure  of  a  man.  A  little 
later  the  sky  to  the  east  began  to  lighten  in  the  prom- 
ise of  dawn.  We  climbed  a  long  hill,  our  horses 
slowing  to  the  ascent,  and  by  the  time  we  attained  the 
summit  the  gray  light  revealed  our  faces.  I  looked 
across  at  her,  and  her  eyes,  uplifted  suddenly  to 
mine,  smiled. 

"  You  are  worn  out,"  I  said. 

"I  —  I  am  tired,"  she  confessed.  "I  —  I  have 
been  two  days  and  nights  without  sleep.  If  I  could 
only  rest  for  an  hour  —  " 

"  You  shall  —  all  day  long.  We  will  find  a  place 
in  which  to  hide  down  there  in  the  valley." 

The  road  led  winding  down  between  rocky  banks, 
but  it  was  still  too  dark  below  for  us  to  discern  the 
nature  of  the  descent.  We  had  to  ride  with  care, 
pebbles  causing  the  horses  to  slip,  but,  at  last,  came 
forth  into  a  narrow  valley,  hemmed  in  by  great  hills, 
and  watered  by  a  small  stream.  The  valley  was 
wooded,  but  not  heavily,  and  the  road  cut  directly 
across.  As  we  paused  to  let  the  thirsty  animals 


278  The  Red  Mist 

drink,  the  increasing  daylight  gave  me  glimpse  of 
a  bridle  path  skirting  the  edge  of  the  stream  along 
the  west  bank.  Beyond  doubt  it  led  to  some  squat- 
ter's cabin,  hidden  away  under  protection  of  the 
overhanging  hill,  and,  whether  occupied  or  not, 
promised  shelter,  and  possibly  food.  I  pointed  the 
dim  trail  out  to  her,  and  dismounted,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  exploring. 

"  Stay  here  just  a  moment  until  I  see  where  the 
path  leads,"  I  said,  holding  up  my  rein. 

"  I  would  rather  go  with  you." 

"  But  the  horses,"  I  protested,  "  and  I  will  not 
be  long." 

"  Let  us  take  them  back  into  the  woods,  and  tie 
them,  and  go  together,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  do  not 
know  why  I  am  so  nervous ;  I  —  I  am  ashamed  of 
myself,  but  I  do  not  want  to  be  left  here  alone." 

I  laughed,  yet  the  expression  of  her  face  proved 
the  truth  of  her  words,  and  I  helped  her  down. 

"  All  right,"  I  assented  cheerfully.  "  There  is 
probably  nothing  more  dangerous  ahead  of  us  than 
a  deserted  cabin,  but  we'll  take  the  venture  together. 
Here,  let  me  take  the  reins." 

I  led  the  animals  far  enough  back  to  be  well  out 
of  sight  from  the  road,  hitching  them  securely  be- 
hind a  thicket  of  undergrowth.  She  followed  me 
closely,  grasping  her  skirt  with  one  hand,  and,  with- 


The  Raiders  Pass  279 

out  retracing  our  steps,  I  pushed  deeper  through  the 
brush,  and  attained  the  patch,  which  followed  closely 
the  curvature  of  the  stream.  By  this  time  it  was 
light  enough  so  we  could  see  clearly.  The  passage 
was  overgrown  with  grass,  and  gave  no  evidence  of 
having  been  lately  traveled.  There  were  hoof- 
marks,  but  they  were  old.  We  must  have  advanced 
a  hundred  yards,  when  I  came  upon  an  axe  with  a 
broken  handle,  and  near  by  marks  on  the  bank  show- 
ing where  a  man  had  knelt  on  his  knees  to  drink. 
The  path  turned  sharply  to  the  right  here,  and  as  we 
mounted  to  the  slightly  higher  ground  we  could  see 
the  cabin  perched  on  a  little  knoll,  against  the  black 
hill  behind. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CABIN 


ROM  where  we  halted  in  uncertainty  only 
one  end  of  the  cabin  could  be  perceived 
through  the  intervening  trees,  and  it  ap- 
peared old,  neglected,  and  partly  de- 
molished. But  for  the  signs  along  the  bank  of  the 
creek,  showing  the  late  passage  of  a  man,  I  would 
have  instantly  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
place  had  been  long  ago  deserted  and  abandoned. 
Surely  nothing  about  the  shanty,  or  its  immediate 
surroundings,  indicated  present  occupancy.  Yet 
with  this  memory  in  mind,  when  I  finally  advanced 
it  was  with  caution,  and  a  strange  sense  of  expecta- 
tion. Indeed,  I  avoided  the  open  path  entirely, 
pressing  a  way  through  the  underbrush  under  the  tree 
shadows,  until  I  gained  the  edge  of  the  little  open- 
ing in  which  the  hut  stood.  Noreen  followed  closely 
behind,  treading  almost  in  my  footsteps,  as  noise- 
less as  a  fawn,  her  skirts  held  close  about  her  limbs. 
At  the  edge  of  the  woods,  still  dark  with  the  linger- 
ing night  shadows,  we  paused  side  by  side,  parting 
the  leaves  to  stare  wonderingly  at  the  silent  log 
walls.  It  was  a  one-roomed  cabin,  a  mere  shell, 

280 


The  Fight  in  the  Cabin  281 

erected  no  doubt  by  some  lonely  squatter  who  had  no 
desire  to  be  discovered,  and  stood  squarely  against 
the  steep  side  of  the  hill.  Apparently  there  was  no 
rear  opening,  and  the  single  door  in  front  was  se- 
curely closed.  The  end  toward  us,  however,  con- 
tained a  narrow  window,  unprotected  even  by  glass, 
and  its  wooden  shutter  hung  dejectedly  on  one  hinge. 
No  smoke  arose  above  the  tottering  chimney,  and  the 
whole  place  appeared  a  deserted  wreck. 

"  Wait  here  until  I  get  a  closer  view,"  I  whispered. 
"  I  shall  be  within  sight  all  the  time." 

"  Surely  no  one  lives  there." 

"  No;  the  place  must  have  been  deserted  for  years, 
but  someone  has  been  up  this  way  within  a  few 
hours.  It  is  best  to  be  sure." 

She  stood  motionless  as  I  went  crouching  forward, 
keeping  well  to  the  front  of  the  cabin  until  I  was 
safely  against  the  wall.  Without  venturing  to  try 
the  door  I  raised  myself  cautiously  on  the  end  of  a 
projecting  log,  and  peered  in  through  the  slit  of  a 
window.  As  the  only  light  reaching  that  interior 
found  entrance  through  this  narrow  opening  I  found 
some  difficulty  at  first  in  distinguishing  objects 
within.  I  had  to  thrust  my  head  well  forward  in 
order  to  see  at  all,  and  then,  slowly  as  my  eyes 
accustomed  themselves  to  the  gloom,  I  picked  out 
various  objects.  The  cabin  was  not  deserted  in 


282  The  Red  Mist 

spite  of  its  desolate  outward  appearance.  It  bore 
every  evidence  of  late  occupancy,  although  I  could 
perceive  no  movement  to  indicate  any  human  pres- 
ence. I  stared  about  the  one  room,  which  contained 
a  rough  table,  two  or  three  stools,  and  a  bunk  in 
the  further  corner.  A  bottle  and  two  tin  plates 
stood  on  the  table,  and  the  end  of  a  ragged  quilt 
dangled  from  the  edge  of  the  bunk  nearly  to  the 
floor.  Opposite  me  was  an  open  fire-place,  an  iron 
kettle  sitting  in  the  ashes,  while  a  short-barreled 
rifle  stood  upright  in  a  corner.  On  one  of  the  stools 
lay  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  a  pair  of  ragged 
corduroy  pants  hung  on  a  wooden  peg  beside  the 
door.  The  latter  was  unbarred,  the  heavy  slab  of 
wood  leaning  against  the  log  wall.  There  was  an 
opening  above  leading  into  the  attic,  but  no  ladder. 
I  grasped  these  details  swiftly,  but  my  gaze  lin- 
gered on  the  bunk,  uncertain  as  to  whether  or  not  it 
might  be  occupied.  The  shadows  prevented  my 
seeing  distinctly,  yet  there  was  no  movement,  no 
sound  of  breathing,  and  I  became  convinced  no  form 
rested  concealed  under  that  edge  of  ragged  quilt. 
There  had  certainly  been  a  late  occupant  —  perhaps 
during  the  past  night.  But,  whoever  the  fellow 
might  be  —  some  hider-out  probably  —  he  had  de- 
parted before  daylight.  He  would  likely  be  the 
same  one  who  had  knelt  at  the  stream  to  drink.  The 


The  Fight  in  the  Cabin  283 

unbarred  door  was  proof  enough  that  the  cabin  was 
now  deserted,  the  only  question  arising  in  my  mind 
being  occasioned  by  the  rifle  standing  in  the  corner. 
Why  had  that  been  left? 

Still  there  was  no  denying  the  evidence  of  my 
own  eyes,  and  here  was  shelter  and  food.  If  the 
fellow  returned  he  was  only  one  man,  and  not  to 
be  greatly  feared.  The  lady  must  rest  before  we 
passed  another  night  in  the  saddle,  and  the  place 
looked  fairly  clean,  and  was  safe  enough  from  the 
prying  eyes  of  any  passers  by  along  the  pike.  I 
stepped  down  from  the  support  on  which  I  stood, 
and  motioned  to  her  to  join  me.  She  emerged  from 
out  her  leafy  covert,  and  I  waited,  my  eyes  upon 
her,  as  she  came  swiftly  forward.  In  spite  of  the 
lines  of  weariness  in  her  face  the  light  of  the  dawn 
revealed  a  beauty  that  caused  my  heart  to  throb. 
Her  eyes  silently  questioned  me,  and  I  explained 
quickly  what  discovery  I  had  made. 

"  But  the  man  may  return,"  she  said  doubtfully. 

"  Of  course,  although  I  imagine  he  has  disap- 
peared for  the  day.  If  he  is  hiding  out  he  may  not 
dare  to  remain  here  in  daylight.  Anyway  you  can 
rest  safely,  for  I  am  not  in  need  of  any  sleep.  I 
napped  in  my  cell  yesterday,  and  just  a  short  doze 
will  serve  me.  But  you  are  terribly  tired  —  it  is 
in  your  eyes." 


284  The  Red  Mist 


"  Yes,"  she  confessed,  "  I  must  sleep  somewhere." 

"  Then  come;  we'll  find  a  bite  to  eat,  and  a  place 
for  you  to  lie  down." 

I  opened  the  door  noiselessly,  although  I  took 
no  special  precaution,  and  held  it  wide,  while  she 
stepped  across  the  threshold,  and  stood  looking  curi- 
ously about.  Then  I  closed  it  behind  us,  and  we  were 
in  a  sort  of  twilight,  amid  which  objects  appeared 
rather  indistinct. 

"  Ah,"  I  said,  "  the  fellow's  cupboard  must  be 
over  yonder.  I  hope  he  keeps  it  well  stocked." 

I  stepped  across  in  front  of  her,  with  no  other 
thought  than  that  of  exploring  the  larder,  when  she 
gave  vent  to  a  startled  cry,  and  I  stopped  suddenly, 
sweeping  my  eyes  about  to  learn  the  cause  of  alarm. 
The  ragged  quilt  was  on  the  floor,  and  a  man  leaped 
across  the  room,  and  grasped  the  rifle  in  the  corner. 
I  saw  the  swift  movement,  realized  the  purpose,  yet 
had  scarcely  time  to  draw  a  revolver  from  the  belt, 
before  he  had  hand  on  the  weapon,  and  whirled  sav- 
agely about  facing  us.  For  the  instant  the  gloom  dis- 
figured his  face  —  all  I  knew  was  that  he  was  a  big 
fellow,  with  ragged,  untrimmed  hair,  and  a  scraggly 
beard.  I  stepped  forward,  and  flung  up  my  arm. 

"  Drop  it !  "  I  said  shortly.  "  Lift  that  gun,  and 
you're  dead!  " 

At  first  I  thought  him  crazy  enough  to  take  the 


A  big  fellow,  with  ragged,  untrimmed  hair,  and  a  scraggly  beard 


The  Fight  in  the  Cabin  285 

chance  of  my  fire;  then  the  big  fingers  relaxed,  and 
the  rifle  fell  clattering  to  the  floor.  To  my  surprise 
the  fellow  laughed. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  he  chortled,  "you 
here?" 

He  threw  back  his  head,  and  I  recognized  him 
—  Jem  Taylor,  old  Ned  Cowan.  I  drew  a  quick 
breath,  my  teeth  clinched,  my  arm  steady.  This 
encounter  was  going  to  prove  no  boy's  play.  But 
what  was  the  man's  game*?  Did  he  not  know  yet 
who  I  was1?  or  what  I  knew  about  him'?  Before 
I  could  answer,  his  harsh  voice  spoke  again. 

"  Put  down  yer  pop-gun,  boy,  an'  take  it  easy  — 
the  blame  thing  mout  go  off.  I  reckon  as  how  we 
all  hav'n't  got  nuthin'  ter  fight  over,  hav'  we*?  How 
ther  Sam  Hill  did  yer  ever  git  yere?  " 

"  Now  wait,"  I  broke  in  coldly,  determined  to 
have  a  straight  understanding.  "  I  don't  know  what 
you  are  trying  to  pretend,  but  there  is  no  friendship 
between  us.  You  stand  just  where  you  are.  I  am 
not  sure  whether  you  know  me,  or  not;  but  I  know 
you,  Ned  Cowan  —  I  know  what  you  did  at  Hot 
Springs,  and  how  you  took  me  along  so  as  to  make 
others  believe  I  was  guilty  —  " 

"  Shucks,  lad;  'twas  no  more  than  a  fair  fight." 

"  It  was  cold-blooded  murder,  Cowan !  "  I  ex- 
claimed indignantly,  "  the  culmination  of  a  feud." 


286  The  Red  Mist 


"  Huh !  who  told  yer  that"?  " 

I  stepped  aside,  but  still  held  him  under  the 
muzzle  of  my  revolver.  The  change  in  posture 
brought  the  man  face  to  face  with  Noreen;  I  saw 
him  lean  forward,  and  gaze  at  her;  then  recoil,  as 
though  he  viewed  a  ghost.  She  never  moved,  never 
spoke. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  he  muttered.  "  Is  that  Har- 
wood's  girl  ?  " 

"Yes;  now  you  know  how  I  know,  and  that 
there  is  nothing  but  war  between  us.  The  lady  is 
my  wife." 

His  face  was  ashen  gray,  his  thin  lips  set  in  a 
straight,  hard  line. 

"  Your  wife !  and  you  in  that  Yankee  uniform ! 
Who  the  hell  are  you1?  Why  you  are  a  blame  liar! 
You  told  me  you  was  a  Confed,  sergeant  of  artillery, 
and  —  your  wife!  Why,  damn  it,  man,  the  major 
never  even  knew  yer !  " 

"  He  failed  to  recognize  me,"  I  admitted.  "  But 
I'll  tell  you  who  I  am,  and  how  I  came  here.  I  am 
Thomas  Wyatt,  the  son  of  Judge  Wyatt,  who  used 
to  hold  court  in  Lewisburg.  You  ought  to  remem- 
ber him,  for  you  were  before  him  twice  —  you  and 
your  son  Anse;  and  I  am,  as  I  told  you  before, 
a  sergeant  of  artillery  in  the  Confederate  service." 

"  Ther  hell  yer  say." 


The  Fight  in  the  Cabin  287 

"  Why  I  am  here  is  no  business  of  yours,"  I  went 
on  coldly.  "  But  I  am  the  officer  who  escaped  your 
gang  in  the  mountains  three  nights  ago;  and  I  am 
the  officer  who  was  at  the  Harwood  house  when 
Anse,  and  his  precious  crew  of  cutthroats,  broke  in." 

"  The  feller  who  did  up  Parson  Nichols?  " 

"  Yes." 

"An'  yer  say  yer  married  ter  the  girl"?  Who 
ever  married  yer?  " 

"  Nichols  did.  He  never  told  you  that  part  of 
the  story,  I  reckon?  He  thought  it  might  prejudice 
Anse  against  him.  Well,  this  is  the  way  it  was, 
Cowan.  The  lady  realized  that  her  choice  lay  be- 
tween myself  and  Anse,  and  must  have  considered  me 
the  lesser  of  two  evils." 

"  An'  —  an'  Pop  Nichols  married  yer,  while  — 
while  Anse  was  a  breakin'  in?  " 

"Exactly  —  rather  romantic,  wasn't  it?" 

He  burst  into  a  harsh  laugh,  not  altogether  pleas- 
ant. 

"Romantic  —  hell!  But  it  wus  som'  joke  on 
Anse.  Why  he's  out  huntin'  after  her  now  —  " 

He  stopped,  cursing  fiercely  to  himself;  but  I  saw 
fit  to  follow  the  lead  given. 

"  So  that  is  what  he  is  up  to?  He  and  his 
outfit  passed  us  just  this  side  of  Benton's  ford.  And 
they  were  bound  for  Lewisburg,  you  say?  " 


288  The  Red  Mist 

"  Thar,  or  tharabouts." 

"  But,  man,  there  were  only  thirty-five  men  I 
counted,  and  there  are  five  hundred  Yanks  in  the 
town." 

His  eyes  shifted  their  gaze  from  the  face  of  the 
girl  to  mine.  They  were  narrow  cat  eyes,  cruel  and 
cunning. 

"  I  reckon  I  ain't  seen  ol'  Harwood's  gal  afore  in 
maybe  five  year,"  he  said  slowly,  "  but  she  has  sure 
growed  up  fine.  Anse  took  after  marryin'  her  furst 
jist  ter  spite  Harwood,  but  since  he  seed  her  a  while 
back  he's  sorter  took  a  notion  thet  he  wants  her 
hisself.  I  reckon  I  don't  blame  him.  Thet's  why 
he  wouldn't  wait,  but  set  out  ternight.  No,  I  don't 
reckon,  young  fellar,  it's  no  particular  risk.  Yer 
a  sojer  an'  don't  jest  understand  how  we  fight  out 
yere  in  the  mountings.  We  jest  strike  quick,  an' 
then  git  away.  'Tain't  so  much  of  a  trick  Anse  is 
a  playing  at  over  at  Lewisburg.  Sure  thar's  five 
hundred  Yanks  thar;  an'  if  thar  wus  five  thousand  it 
wouldn't  make  no  great  difference  the  way  the  guard 
is  sot.  The  whol'  blame  caboodle  is  camped  in  the 
courthouse  yard,  an'  the  only  picket  is  at  the  main 
ford  o'  the  Green  Briar.  Yer  never  saw  nobody,  did 
yer,  gittin'  out  yere"?  " 

"  No,"  I  admitted,  realizing  his  intimate  knowl- 
edge. "  The  camp  is  poorly  protected." 


The  Fight  in  the  Cabin  289 

"  I  reckon  it  is,  and  Anse  knows  that  just  as  well 
as  you  do.  An'  he  knows  the  gal  yere  had  a  room 
at  ther  hotel.  Thar  is  where  he  went,  aimin'  fer 
ter  raid  the  shebang  just  afore  daylight."  He 
laughed  again  mirthlessly.  "  By  God,  but  Anse  will 
be  some  mad  when  he  finds  out  whut  has  happened. 
I  reckon  he'll  'bout  cut  yer  heart  out." 

"  He  will  have  to  get  me  first." 

"  Oh,  don't  yer  ever  worry  none  'bout  thet,  young 
fellar.  Anse  will  sure  git  yer;  he  knows  every 
bridle-path  'cross  these  mountings,  an'  I  wouldn't 
give  a  continental  damn  fer  no  chance  you've  got 
fer  ter  git  away.  He's  a  tiger  cat  on  a  trail,  Anse 
is  —  an'  besides  the  blame  fool  wants  the  gal.  He 
ain't  no  Cowan  if  he  lets  you  beat  him  outer  her." 
He  glanced  quickly  across  my  shoulder  toward  the 
door.  Perhaps  she  moved;  perhaps  it  was  all  imag- 
ination, but  I  thought  I  heard  a  noise,  and  wheeled 
partly  around,  my  eyes  for  an  instant  deserting  old 
Cowan's  face.  It  was  his  once  chance,  and  he  took 
it.  I  sensed  the  spring,  even  as  Noreen's  cry  of 
warning  broke  the  silence,  but  not  in  time  to  escape 
the  grip  of  the  old  man's  iron  fingers.  His  body 
crashed  against  me  with  such  force  that  I  staggered 
and  fell;  one  hand  closed  like  a  vise  on  my  throat, 
the  other  gripped  the  stock  of  my  revolver,  crushing 
my  fingers  lifeless.  I  struck  against  the  edge  of  the 


290  The  Red  Mist 

table,  struggling  vainly  to  keep  my  feet.  It  went 
over  with  a  crash,  bearing  us  both  along,  old  Ned 
atop,  clutching  fiercely  to  keep  his  hold,  his  eyes 
blazing  madly  down  into  mine.  As  we  struck  I 
wrenched  my  hand  free,  and  pulled  the  trigger.  The 
shot  seemed  to  blaze  across  my  own  breast,  burning 
like  fire,  and,  the  next  instant,  the  man's  knee  crushed 
my  wrist  to  the  floor,  and  the  revolver  fell  from  my 
benumbed  fingers. 

I  seem  to  recall  little  of  what  followed;  only  a 
confused  recollection  of  desperate  struggling  amid 
the  legs  of  the  overturned  table;  of  oaths,  blows; 
of  eyes  glaring  revengefully  into  mine.  I  could 
not  break  his  death  grip  on  my  throat,  nor  throw 
off  the  weight  of  his  big  body.  I  did  get  my  hands 
free,  and  one  leg  curved  under  me.  With  this  as  a 
lever  I  twisted  partly  aside,  driving  my  fist  twice 
into  the  fellow's  face,  and  twining  fingers  into  his 
coarse  hair.  But  I  could  not  breathe ;  he  was  choking 
the  life  out  of  me ;  everything  grew  red  —  I  saw 
the  girl's  frightened  face  through  a  red  haze,  which 
turned  black  almost  at  the  instant.  I  was  blind,  and 
fought  blindly.  I  seemed  to  lose  all  knowledge,  all 
consciousness,  under  the  merciless  throttling  of  those 
hard  fingers.  Then  suddenly  they  relaxed  —  I 
caught  a  quick,  reviving  breath,  another.  Every 
nerve  in  me  throbbed;  I  could  see  again,  hear,  feel. 


The  Fight  in  the  Cabin  291 

That  was  Noreen's  face  I  looked  into  —  ay,  and 
the  girl  was  actually  dragging  the  fellow  off  me !  I 
took  another  breath,  a  long  one,  moving  so  that  the 
inert  body  rolled  over  on  its  side ;  then  I  rose  up,  sup- 
porting myself  on  one  arm,  and  stared  about,  sobbing 
in  the  first  effort  to  regain  control.  What  had  hap- 
pened? how  had  I  been  saved"?  I  was  too  much  con- 
fused to  think,  or  reason.  I  had  been  within  an 
ace  of  death,  and  realized  some  miracle  alone  had 
saved  me.  I  trembled  so  with  weakness  that  I  sank 
helplessly  back  to  the  floor,  my  eyes  closing.  Then 
her  hands  touched  me ;  I  felt  my  head  lifted  into  her 
lap,  her  fingers  stroked  my  face,  and  pressed  back  my 
hair.  Again  I  forced  my  eyes  open,  and  looked  at 
her. 

"Noreen!"  the  name  choked  in  my  throat,  yet 
must  have  been  uttered. 

"  Yes;  it  is  all  right  now  —  Cowan  is  dead." 

"  Dead !     You  —  you  killed  him?  " 

"  No;  it  must  have  been  your  shot.  I  had  no 
chance ;  you  —  you  two  fought  like  mad  men  — 
then  —  then  he  just  let  go  of  you,  and  fell  back. 
I  was  afraid  to  come  —  I  thought  at  first  he  had 
killed  you." 

"My  shot!  why  the  revolver  just  went  off,"  I 
muttered,  scarcely  comprehending.  "  See !  the  bullet 
burned  me  across  the  chest,  and  there  is  blood  there. 


292  The  Red  Mist 


And  you  say  it  struck  him?  Lord!  I  never  knew. 
Help  me  to  sit  up,  Noreen." 

With  the  aid  of  her  arms  I  found  support  against 
the  table,  my  senses  coming  back  with  change  of 
posture,  the  air  inhaled  by  my  lungs  bringing  a 
corresponding  strength.  I  could  speak  without  pain, 
and  my  breathing  grew  more  natural.  The  blue  coat 
I  wore  showed  clearly  the  mark  of  the  bullet,  and 
blood  discolored  the  burned  cloth.  I  ran  my  hand 
within,  touching  the  flesh. 

"  A  mere  scratch,"  I  said  lightly,  "  requiring  a 
little  water.  Don't  cry,  Noreen;  there  is  no  harm 
done;  I'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute.  Are  you  sure 
Cowan  is  dead"?  " 

"Yes;  he  —  he  hasn't  moved  since;  but  —  but 
I  didn't  kill  him." 

"  Of  course  not,  and  I'm  glad  I  did.  That  is  part 
of  my  trade,  and  I'll  not  lose  any  sleep  over  it.  Ah ! 
I  can  get  up  alone,  and  the  first  thing  I  am  going  to 
do  is  to  bar  that  door." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WE  UNDERSTAND  EACH  OTHER 

MAY  have  staggered  as  I  crossed  the 

tJt_7 

room,  but  I  accomplished  the  feat  un- 
aided, each  movement  giving  me  re- 
newed strength.  The  wooden  bar  fitted 
tightly  into  its  grooves,  and,  once  firmly  in  place,  left 
us  secure  from  any  unexpected  intrusion.  My  brain 
cleared,  and  my  gaze  wandered  about  the  bare, 
squalid  apartment,  as  I  swiftly  reviewed  our  dan- 
gerous position.  Noreen  had  drawn  away  from  the 
body  of  the  dead  man,  and  stood  against  the  further 
log  wall,  with  face  hidden  in  her  hands.  Cowan 
lay  at  full  length,  one  arm  thrown  across  his  eyes. 
It  was  hard  for  me  to  conceive  that  the  man  was 
actually  dead,  and  I  bent  over  him,  touching  his 
flesh  with  my  fingers  to  assure  myself.  The  ball  had 
penetrated  his  abdomen,  and  how  the  fellow  ever 
fought  so  fiercely  after  receiving  that  death  wound 
I  can  never  understand.  I  think  that  in  his  mad 
ferocity  he  was  scarcely  aware  that  he  was  hurt  — 
his  one  overmastering  desire  being  to  kill  me.  I 
turned  him  partly  over,  and  drew  out  from  the  inside 
pocket  of  his  blouse  a  handful  of  papers  concealed 

293 


294  The  Red  Mist 


there.  One  was  a  buff  packet,  which  had  been 
roughly  torn  open,  but  which  bore  no  inscription; 
the  others  ordinary  appearing  letters  addressed  to 
Cowan.  The  latter  I  barely  glanced  at,  assuring 
myself  they  contained  nothing  of  special  interest,  but 
examined  the  contents  of  the  buff  packet  with  care, 
convinced  that  this  was  the  one  taken  from  Major 
Harwood  the  night  of  his  murder. 

The  packet  contained  several  official  papers, 
emanating  from  General  Ramsay's  headquarters. 
Two  of  these  related  to  army  operations  in  western 
Virginia,  and  the  present  distribution  of  troops,  re- 
questing the  dispatch  of  another  regiment  of  infantry 
to  help  free  the  country  from  guerrillas.  There  was 
also  a  personal  letter  from  Ramsay  to  McClellan 
giving  more  intimate  details,  and  a  general  review 
of  the  situation,  but  the  principal  paper  was  a  care- 
fully prepared  list  of  irregulars  operating  through- 
out the  mountain  country,  with  names  of  the  better 
known  leaders,  the  estimated  strength  of  each  sep- 
arate gang,  the  region  in  which  they  hid,  and  the  side 
they  espoused,  if  any.  This  had  evidently  been  care- 
fully prepared  by  some  staff-officer,  undoubtedly 
Major  Harwood  himself,  as  the  letter  referred  to 
him  as  having  been  detailed  to  such  duty,  and  was 
full  and  complete.  I  found  therein  this  mention 
of  the  Cowans:  "Father  and  two  sons;  probably 


We  Understand  Each  Other  295 

control  fifty  or  more  men,  with  headquarters  near 
Union  in  Green  Briar  Mountains;  raid  indiscrim- 
inately; have  attacked  our  forage  trains;  refuse  to 
cooperate,  and  continue  to  terrorize  a  large  section; 
raided  Lewisburg  before  it  was  occupied  by  troops, 
killing  several,  and  looting  the  shops.  Is  considered 
the  most  dangerous  gang  operating  in  Green  Briar 
and  Monroe  Counties;  reports  of  atrocities  received 
almost  daily,  many  too  hideous  to  repeat." 

I  glanced  up  at  Noreen,  and  her  eyes  met  mine 
inquiringly. 

"  Is  this  your  father's  handwriting*? "  I  asked, 
holding  the  paper  toward  her. 

"Yes;  what  is  it?  important?" 

"  Not  very  complimentary  to  Cowan  here.  A  re- 
port to  General  Halleck,  at  Washington,  of  condi- 
tions in  Western  Virginia.  I  wonder  how  the  old 
villain  ever  learned  that  such  a  paper  was  being  for- 
warded? " 

"  It  is  not  likely  he  did,"  she  answered  thought- 
fully. "  It  may  have  been  mere  accident  which  put 
the  document  in  his  hands.  See,  here  is  a  letter  that 
father  wrote,"  and  she  stooped  and  picked  it  up  from 
the  floor,  uttering  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 
"  Why,  it  —  it  is  addressed  to  Ned  Cowan  at  Union ! 
What  could  he  have  possibly  written  this  man 
about?  " 


296  The  Red  Mist 


"  Let  me  see,"  and  I  took  it  from  her  hands.  "  We 
may  find  here  an  explanation  of  the  whole  affair." 

It  was  a  single  sheet,  very  formal  in  expression, 
as  though  the  writer  merely  performed  a  duty  which 
he  considered  unpleasant,  but  necessary.  He  ac- 
knowledged receipt  of  a  communication  reaching  him 
at  Ramsay's  headquarters,  apparently  an  applica- 
tion for  pardon,  and  a  pledge  to  unite  with  the 
Federal  forces,  and  stated  that  the  writer  would  be 
at  the  Minor  house  near  Hot  Springs  at  a  certain 
date,  where  he  would  be  glad  to  confer  further  re- 
garding the  matter.  He  agreed  to  come  unattended, 
and  suggested  that  his  visitor  use  the  name  of  Taylor 
so  as  to  prevent  any  suspicion.  The  closing  para- 
graph referred  to  a  former  misunderstanding  between 
them,  and  expressed  a  kindly  desire  to  blot  out  all 
memory  of  what  had  occurred.  My  hands  trembled 
as  I  read  the  lines,  and  the  girl  at  my  side  cried  softly, 
her  eyes  so  filled  with  tears  I  doubt  if  she  could  dis- 
tinguish the  words.  Scarcely  aware  of  the  action  I 
held  her  with  my  arm,  the  letter  crumpled  between 
my  fingers. 

"  It  is  all  clear  enough  now,  little  girl,"  I  whis- 
pered, my  voice  trembling  from  sympathy.  "  Your 
father  met  his  death  at  the  hands  of  a  treacherous 
scoundrel.  It  was  a  plot  carefully  conceived,  and 
now  Cowan  has  paid  the  penalty.  I  am  glad  we  have 


We  Understand  Each  Other          297 

learned  the  truth;  but  Major  Harwood  would  never 
wish  you  to  mourn  here  in  the  midst  of  all  this  dan- 
ger —  you  are  listening?  " 

"Yes;  I  will  do  just  as  you  say;  but  —  but  I 
cannot  remain  here  in  presence  of  this  man's  body. 
It  —  it  will  drive  me  insane." 

"It  will  be  best  to  go;  safer,  I  think  also,  for 
Anse  and  his  gang  may  return  here.  There  would 
be  no  mercy  shown  us  in  such  a  case.  Sit  here  a 
moment,"  and  I  forced  her  upon  a  stool  with  her 
back  to  the  dead  man,  "  while  I  search  for  food.  I 
can  trust  you  alone?  " 

Her  hands  clung  to  me,  but  she  was  no  longer 
crying,  although  unshed  tears  dimmed  her  eyes. 

"I  —  I  thank  God,"  she  faltered,  "  that  he  sent 
you  to  me.  I  could  not  bear  all  this  alone." 

"  I  am  glad  you  care  to  have  me  here,"  I  answered 
eagerly.  "  I  was  half  afraid  you  did  not." 

"  Oh,  but  I  do;  I  cannot  tell  you  all  it  means.  I 
—  I  think  I  have  never  felt  more  helpless,  or  —  or 
discouraged." 

"It  is  the  strain  of  so  much  occurring  at  once, 
and  you  are  worn  out.  We  will  get  away  from 
here,  somewhere  back  into  the  hills  where  we  can 
feel  safe  from  discovery.  Then  we  can  rest  all  day, 
and  you  will  be  all  right  again.  We  need  sleep 
and  food." 


298  The  Red  Mist 


I  released  her  hands  gently,  and  began  a  swift 
search  of  the  cabin.  It  did  not  require  long  to  ex- 
plore the  single  room,  and  I  found  all  we  required  in 
a  big  box  beside  the  bunk.  What  I  could  con- 
veniently transport  was  pressed  into  a  clean  bag, 
and  I  also  took  possession  of  a  quilt  to  add  to  her 
comfort.  I  left  Cowan  lying  just  as  he  had  fallen, 
seeing  little  use  in  attempting  to  conceal  the  body. 
Both  of  us  were  glad  enough  when  we  closed  the 
door  of  the  shack,  and  returned  to  our  horses.  We 
rode  on  steadily  for  an  hour,  only  occasionally  ex- 
changing a  word.  The  road  was  rough  and  moun- 
tainous, so  rocky  underfoot  our  horses  left  no  trail. 
At  last  we  came  to  a  narrow  ravine  down  which  a 
brook  plunged  over  a  stony  bed.  There  was  no 
trail  visible,  but  it  was  possible  to  advance  some  dis- 
tance by  keeping  close  to  the  bank.  I  dismounted, 
and,  holding  to  the  rein,  led  my  horse  carefully  for- 
ward. 

"  Follow  as  closely  as  you  can,"  I  called  back  to 
her,  "  and  keep  at  the  rock  edge  so  as  to  leave  no 
trail." 

For  a  hundred  yards,  or  more,  we  experienced 
no  difficulty,  the  stream  turning  to  the  right,  and 
following  the  same  direction  as  the  pike  we  had 
deserted.  The  forest  growth  between,  however, 
left  the  latter  invisible.  Then  the  stream  veered 


We  Understand  Each  Other  299 

suddenly  to  another  point  of  compass,  and  the  trees 
so  obstructed  the  bank  that  I  led  the  way  down  into 
the  water.  It  must  have  been  a  mile  above  this  point 
—  a  mile  of  hard,  slow  travel,  the  water  to  my 
knees,  and  the  rocks  below  treacherous  —  when  I 
ventured  to  climb  the  bank,  and  seek  a  suitable 
spot  for  our  day  camp.  A  safer  place  surely  could 
not  have  been  found.  We  were  in  a  narrow  defile, 
scarcely  fifty  feet  across,  and  guarded  on  either  side 
by  high  rock  walls,  precipitous,  and  exhibiting  no 
sign  of  a  trail.  The  woods  were  open,  yet  sufficiently 
thick  to  yield  good  cover  from  observation  from 
above,  and  there  was  sufficient  grass  for  the  horses. 
I  picketed  these  close  to  the  stream,  and  spread 
blankets  for  the  lady  to  lie  on  at  the  foot  of  the 
bluff,  where  she  would  be  well  screened  by  a  thicket 
of  underbrush.  Then  I  came  back  to  where  she 
sat  silently  against  the  bole  of  a  large  tree,  watch- 
ing my  movements. 

"  No  doubt  we  are  safe  enough  here,"  I  said,  open- 
ing the  pack.  "But  I'll  not  risk  a  fire;  you  can 
eat,  I  suppose?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,"  wearily.  "  Perhaps  I  can  choke 
a  little  food  down;  but  really  I  am  not  hungry. 
How  far  have  we  come?  " 

"  As  a  mere  guess  I  should  say  nearly  ten  miles 
since  leaving  the  cabin.  By  the  sun  it  must  be  nine 


300  The  Red  Mist 

o'clock.  Eat  what  you  can,  and  then  lie  down  on 
the  blankets  and  rest.  We  will  not  leave  here  until 
just  before  dark." 

"  And  you?  " 

"  Oh,  I  may  doze  later  if  there  is  no  alarm;  I 
shall  never  be  far  away." 

She  ate  of  the  coarse  food  daintily,  apparently 
without  appetite,  but  I  did  full  justice  to  the  meal, 
satisfied,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  that  we  were 
securely  hidden.  The  horses  munched  at  the  sweet 
grass  behind  us,  and  a  ray  of  sunshine  found  way 
through  the  leaves  overhead,  and  lay  in  bar  of  gold 
across  her  hair.  In  spite  of  her  long  vigil  the  girl's 
face  bore  few  marks  of  fatigue,  and  her  eyes,  occa- 
sionally lifted  to  meet  mine,  were  not  heavy  with 
sleep.  I  endeavored  to  talk,  to  speak  lightly  on 
inconsequential  topics,  but  her  brief  responses  were 
not  encouraging.  There  was  a  strange  constraint 
between  us,  and,  finally,  hoping  to  make  her  feel 
more  at  ease,  I  ventured  to  broach  the  subject  which 
I  knew  must  be  also  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

"It  is  an  odd  situation  in  which  we  find  our- 
selves," I  began  awkwardly,  my  eyes  on  the  ground, 
"  but  I  hope  you  —  you  will  not  feel  embarrassed, 
or  —  or  fail  to  have  complete  confidence  in  me.  I 
—  I  have  no  wish  to  take  any  advantage ;  or  —  or 
assume  any  authority." 


301 


I  stopped,  unable  to  express  the  thing  I  desired  to 
say,  and  the  silence  seemed  long.  I  lifted  my  eyes, 
and  she  was  looking  at  me. 

"  May  I  ask  you  one  question?  " 

"  A  dozen." 

"  No,  the  one  is  all.  You  really  believed  those 
who  attacked  us  were  Cowan's  men?  " 

"  I  had  no  other  thought,  Miss  Noreen." 

"  Then  your  proposal  was  merely  made  in  the 
hope  of  thus  protecting  me  from  insult?  " 

"  That  was  my  sole  thought  at  the  time,"  I  re- 
plied soberly.  "  It  was  a  desperate  chance,  yet  the 
only  one  apparently  left  us.  That  is  what  I  wanted 
to  say,  to  explain,"  I  went  on  hastily,  before  she 
could  interrupt.  "  I  realize  the  serious  mistake 
made,  and  how  embarrassing  it  must  all  be  to  you. 
But  you  must  believe  me  a  gentleman.  I  would 
never  have  spoken  one  word;  never  have  made  any 
claim  upon  you.  Miss  Noreen,  I  realize  that  I  have 
no  right." 

"  You  may  call  me  Noreen,"  she  said  simply. 
"  We  have  been  friends,  and  I  think  we  will  always 
be.  I  do  trust  you,  and  believe  in  you;  only  I 
wanted  to  understand  fully  your  motive.  I  do  not 
blame  you,  nor  myself;  we  did  what  seemed  best 
at  the  time,  and  —  and  now  we  must  meet  the  issue 
as  we  best  can.  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  said 


302  The  Red  Mist 

what  I  did  back  there  in  Lewisburg.  I  had  no  time 
in  which  to  consider,  and  my  only  thought  then  was 
to  justify  my  action  in  aiding  your  escape.  My  — 
my  being  your  —  your  wife  was  the  only  excuse  I 
could  urge  for  such  disloyalty.  Surely  you  —  you 
comprehended  my  purpose"?  " 

"  And  appreciated  the  sacrifice." 

"  It  —  it  was  hardly  that;  no  more  than  a  swift 
impulse.  I  —  I  did  not  even  grasp  all  that  it  might 
imply.  I  knew  I  must  aid  you;  that  I  could  do  no 
less ;  but  —  but  I  did  not  realize  then  that  such  a 
choice  meant  that  I  must  flee  with  you  —  put  my- 
self in  your  protection.  I  —  I  intended  to  stay 
there  —  there  in  Lewisburg,  and  rely  upon  my 
friends  to  save  me  from  punishment."  She  leaned 
across  toward  me,  speaking  rapidly.  "  I  knew  Gen- 
eral Ramsay,  and  felt  he  would  accept  my  word  — 
the  word  of  Major  Harwood's  daughter  —  and  be 
just.  But  —  but  after  we  were  free;  after  that 
soldier  was  left  dead,  I  —  I  seemed  to  grasp  the 
seriousness  of  my  position,  and  —  and  became  afraid. 
I  —  I  wanted  so  to  get  away,  I  hardly  knew  my 
own  mind.  That  was  why  I  insisted  on  riding  with 
you." 

"  And  now  you  are  sorry1?  " 

"I  —  do  not  know,"  hesitatingly.  "  I  cannot 
decide.  Where  do  you  take  me*?  " 


We  Understand  Each  Other          303 

"  Noreen,"  I  said  soberly,  struggling  to  keep  my 
hand  from  touching  her  own,  where  it  rested  on  the 
grass,  "it  is  too  late  now  to  go  back;  to  think  of 
going  back.  We  cannot  deny,  or  conceal,  our  mar- 
riage, since  you  have  openly  acknowledged  it,  and 
we  have  gone  away  together.  There  is  only  one 
straight  path  left  for  us  now  —  across  the  moun- 
tains to  old  Virginia." 

"  I  —  I  know  —  and  then?  " 

"  You  must  trust  my  honor,  my  discretion.  We 
are  friends,  you  say,  and  I  mean  to  prove  worthy. 
My  orders  will  take  me  to  Richmond;  have  you 
either  friends,  or  relatives,  there1?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure,  the  war  has  made  such  changes 
—  but  I  hardly  think  any  in  whom  I  could  con- 
fide." 

"  Then  we  will  find  a  way  for  you  to  join  my 
mother;  she  is  in  North  Carolina,  out  of  the  track 
of  armies.  You  will  consent  to  go  to  her1?  " 

"  If  you  think  it  best.  I  —  I  have  never  met 
your  mother;  perhaps  —  " 

"You  will  be  just  as  welcome;  I  will  write  her 
every  detail,  and  she  will  be  rejoiced  to  shelter  you. 
The  only  trouble  is  the  necessary  delay  involved  by 
the  war;  the  impossibility  of  your  venturing  to  re- 
turn to  Green  Briar  until  the  conflict  is  over." 

She  was  silent  a  long  while,  her  eyes  cast  down, 


304  The  Red  Mist 

her  breathing  noticeably  rapid.  I  waited,  not  know- 
ing what  else  to  add,  and  was  about  to  propose  her 
lying  down,  when  she  spoke  suddenly : 

"  You  mean  our  —  our  separation*?  " 

"  Certainly.  That  can  be  easily  arranged  as  soon 
as  the  courts  are  again  in  session.  Possibly  the  cere- 
mony was  not  even  legal  without  witnesses,  but, 
under  the  circumstances,  it  had  better  be  dissolved  in 
court.  Such  action  would  remove  all  doubt  from 
your  mind." 

"Yes  —  I  suppose  so;  you  —  you  make  it  very 
clear.  And  that  would  have  to  be  done  in  Green 
Briar?  —  the  —  the  action  for  divorce*?" 

"  At  Lewisburg;  not  necessarily,  of  course,  but  I 
supposed  you  would  rather  have  the  facts  made 
known  there,  so  that  your  friends  can  realize  all  the 
conditions  —  the  cause,  I  mean.  Possibly  you  may 
not  need  to  do  this." 

"Not  need!     Why4?" 

"  A  soldier  never  knows  what  another  minute 
means;  I  am  a  soldier." 

"  Oh !  you  should  not  say  that !  " 

"  It  is  part  of  the  trade;  I  had  no  thought  of  hurt- 
ing you,  yet  the  bullet  to  set  you  free  may  be  even 
now  in  a  Federal  cartridge  box." 

She  did  not  look  at  me,  or  move,  although  I 
thought  the  hand  resting  on  the  grass  trembled. 


We  Understand  Each  Other  305 

"  I  believe  I  will  lie  down,"  she  said  finally.  "  Is 
that  the  place  you  have  chosen,  beyond  those  trees?  " 

"  Yes;  let  me  help  you  up;  the  blankets  are  both 
yours.  I  shall  not  need  any." 

I  stood  and  watched  her  move  across  through  the 
mingled  shade  and  sun,  until  her  slender  form  finally 
disappeared  behind  the  screen  of  undergrowth.  Once 
she  had  glanced  about,  pausing  as  though  some 
thought  had  occurred  suddenly,  but  did  not  speak. 
I  was  left  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  CANE  RIDGE  MEETING  HOUSE 

HE  spot  where  Noreen  lay  was  not  fifty 
feet  distant,  but  my  position  gave  me 
no  glimpse  of  her  through  the  tangled 
brush.  Yet  the  woods  were  clearer  on 
either  side  of  the  little  thicket  in  which  she  was 
sheltered,  so  that  nothing  could  approach  from  any 
direction,  and  escape  my  notice.  I  had  no  wish  to 
sleep,  although  physically  wearied  and  bruised  al- 
most from  head  to  foot.  There  was  no  rest  to  my 
brain;  no  driving  away  of  the  thoughts  engendered 
by  this  interview.  Whatever  of  hope  I  had  formerly 
clung  to  had  been  banished  utterly  by  this  last 
fragment  of  conversation.  I  had  been  frank,  and 
pictured  before  her  the  entire  situation;  had  out- 
lined the  only  sure  way  of  escape  —  and  she  had 
silently  acquiesced.  She  had  spoken  no  word  of 
protest,  expressed  no  faint  desire  to  have  it  other- 
wise. She  had  even  confessed  that  her  accompany- 
ing me  in  flight  arose  from  sudden  impulse ;  that  she 
had  been  driven  onward  by  fear  of  what  might 
befall  her  if  she  remained  behind.  The  girl  cared 
nothing  for  me  beyond  a  mere  colorless  friendship, 

306 


The  Cane  Ridge  Meeting  House       307 

her  sole  ambition  now  was  a  desire  to  reach  the 
protection  of  others,  and  then  dissolve  the  slight, 
formal  bonds  which  bound  us.  The  position  she 
assumed  left  me  small  choice;  I  must  crush  within 
me  the  love  I  felt;  for  the  slightest  conception  of 
its  existence  would  add  to  her  embarrassment,  and 
render  more  unpleasant  our  necessary  companion- 
ship. I  felt  confident  she  had  no  suspicion;  I  had 
guarded  well  my  words,  and  my  actions.  She  had  no 
cause  to  question  my  motives,  nor  to  suppose  that  I 
was  actuated  by  any  personal  desire.  Her  answers 
to  my  proposition  proved  that,  for  she  had  voiced 
no  protest,  given  vent  to  no  expression  which  I 
could  construe  favorably.  No;  our  future  relation- 
ship was  already  fixed,  decided  —  it  was  to  be  that  of 
simple  friendship. 

I  sat  there  a  long  while  motionless,  my  back 
pressed  against  a  tree,  thinking,  and  endeavoring  to 
plan  the  future.  Nothing  disturbed  the  silence,,  ex- 
cept the  movements  of  the  two  horses  as  they  grazed, 
and  the  impudent  chatter  of  a  squirrel  overhead. 
The  sky  above  was  cloudless,  and  the  sunlight  fell 
warm  through  the  tree  branches.  The  pike  road  was 
too  far  away  for  any  noise  of  passing  travelers  to 
reach  my  ears,  although  once  I  imagined  I  heard 
the  report  of  a  distant  rifle.  I  must  have  dozed, 
for  the  sun  was  high  overhead  when  I  finally  aroused 


308  The  Red  Mist 


myself,  and  arose  to  my  feet.  I  watered  the  animals, 
and  then  seated  myself  again,  this  time  on  a  flat 
stone  beside  the  stream.  My  position  afforded  me  a 
clear  view  of  the  bluff  opposite,  and,  as  I  idly  studied 
its  rocky  outline,  it  somehow  assumed  a  familiar 
appearance  —  awoke  unconsciously  a  dormant  mem- 
ory. Surely  I  had  never  been  here  before,  even  in 
the  days  of  my  boyhood's  vagrant  tramping,  and  yet 
that  terraced  crest,  with  the  huge  rock  chimney  ris- 
ing conspicuous  at  its  center,  revived  a  recollection 
that  would  not  be  entirely  denied.  I  had  seen  it  be- 
fore, but  from  another  angle  —  from  the  south ;  from 
that  hillside,  perhaps,  where  the  creek  headed.  Why, 
yes;  there  was  a  spring  gushing  out  of  the  rocks, 
and  the  opening  of  a  shallow  cave  back  of  it.  I 
was  there  with  my  father,  and  Jake  Mocroft,  the 
sheriff.  They  were  hunting  deer,  and  I  had  begged 
so  to  be  taken  along  that  they  finally  let  me  come. 
And  Jake  shot  a  deer  just  above  the  spring,  and 
we  camped  there  at  the  cave  entrance;  why  that  was 
fifteen  years  ago,  and  I  was  only  nine;  and  the  men 
were  both  dead.  But  I  remembered  —  it  all  came 
back  again  clear  and  distinct  —  the  rough  trail  from 
the  spring,  winding  and  twisting  along  the  face  of 
the  steep  hill  until  it  finally  attained  the  crest,  and 
skirted  that  odd  chimney  rock,  and  then  down  to 
where  a  church  stood  alongside  the  pike,  a  big  log 


The  Cane  Ridge  Meeting  House       309 

church,  with  hitching  racks  each  side.  Why  that 
was  Cane  Ridge  Baptist  —  Nichol's  church ! 

I  do  not  know  why  I  laughed,  but  I  did  —  per- 
haps it  was  from  sudden  relief  at  thus  discovering 
exactly  where  we  were,  and  seeing  clearly  the  easier 
way  out.  The  sound  of  a  foot  stepping  on  a  round 
stone  caused  me  to  face  about.  Noreen  was  within 
a  few  feet  of  me,  higher  up  on  the  bank,  one  hand 
holding  back  the  bough  of  a  tree. 

"  Why  were  you  laughing?  "  she  asked.  "  I 
thought  you  had  gone  until  I  heard  that  sound." 

"  Deserted  you !  never !  I  am  not  that  kind  of  a 
cavalier.  Why,  I  protest  I  watched  over  you  faith- 
fully for  hours  while  you  slept,  never  even  ventur- 
ing to  move  from  the  spot  where  you  left  me.  I 
swear  it !  " 

"  And  I  believe;  but  surely  this  is  not  the  spot." 

"  No ;  the  sun  was  high,  and  I  ventured  to  water 
the  horses;  then  I  lingered,  studying  the  ridge  over 
yonder.  Do  you  recognize  it?  " 

She  gazed  where  I  pointed,  shading  her  eyes  from 
the  sun,  her  forehead  drawn  into  puckers.  At  last 
she  shook  her  head,  her  glance  seeking  my  face  in- 
quiringly. 

"  It  awakens  no  memory." 

"  Because  of  the  point  of  view.  If  you  were  at 
the  top  you  would  remember.  I  studied  it  a  long 


310  The  Red  Mist 


while  before  I  recognized  the  place  myself.  I  had  to 
laugh  when  the  truth  finally  came  to  me;  that  is 
Cane  Ridge." 

"  Where  —  where  the  Baptist  church  is?  " 

"  Exactly;  where  Parson  Nichols  points  out  to  his 
congregation  the  straight  and  narrow  way.  There 
is  a  bridle-path  yonder  leading  up  from  the  valley, 
which  will  save  us  a  five  mile  detour.  But  it  means 
we  are  still  in  Cowan's  country,  and  to  climb  there 
with  horses  will  require  the  use  of  daylight." 

"  You  think  Anse  —  " 

"  Is  probably  back  before  this,  and  doing  his 
best  to  trail  us.  Even  if  he  does  not  discover  the 
body  of  old  Ned,  he  will  naturally  conclude  we 
will  head  east.  My  only  hope  is  that  not  having 
seen  us  last  night  he  may  imagine  we  chose  the 
southern  route,  and  ride  there  first.  But  if  he  did, 
doubtless  he  would  send  some  of  his  men  scouting 
this  way." 

"  You  have  heard  —  seen  nothing?  " 

"  No,  we  are  too  far  back;  the  noise  of  an  army 
passing  along  the  pike  would  not  reach  here.  If 
we  get  to  Cane  Ridge  Church  before  dark,  we  must 
trust  to  luck,  and  the  night  for  the  next  thirty 
miles." 

"You  fear  Cowan's  gang  more  than  the  troops'? 
Surely  they  will  pursue?  " 


The  Cane  Ridge  Meeting  House       311 

"No  doubt;  Pickney  will  be  raving,  and  Ray- 
mond crazy  to  get  hand  on  me.  Ay!  there  will  be 
some  galloping  of  troopers.  I  should  have  liked  to 
see  Fox's  face  when  he  heard  the  news;  by  heavens! 
they  are  like  enough  to  charge  him  with  conspiracy, 
for  he  was  officer  of  the  day.  However  I  do  not 
greatly  fear  them;  they  will  make  noise  enough  to 
warn  us,  and  couldn't  track  a  bear.  It  is  the  moun- 
tain men  we  must  guard  against;  they  are  wolves. 
You  slept  well?" 

"  After  the  first  half  hour.  I  am  rested,  and 
strong.  Shall  we  go  now*?  " 

"  When  we  have  eaten.  There  may  be  no  other 
opportunity,  and  there  is  ample  time.  You  might 
even  sleep  another  hour." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  could  not,"  and  she  gave  a  gesture 
significant.  "  It  was  only  complete  exhaustion  that 
gave  me  sleep  before.  I  would  rather  feel  we  were 
making  way  through  the  cordon  of  our  enemies." 

"  I  am  glad  you  say  *  our.'  " 

"  I  can  scarcely  do  otherwise,  sir,"  she  said,  just 
a  bit  archly,  "  for  does  not  this  cloak  make  me  a 
'gray-back1?'" 

"You  wear  the  colors;  ay!  with  not  a  tinge  of 
blue  about  you." 

"  You  forget  the  eyes ;  all  my  loyalty  is  centered 
there." 


312  The  Red  Mist 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  them,  and  never  shall," 
I  contended  stoutly,  "  but  I  have  met  blue-eyed 
Rebels.  Besides  loyalty  is  not  all  upon  one  side; 
I  even  lay  claim  to  that  virtue." 

"  Nor  would  I  deny  it  to  either  Federal  or  Con- 
federate. I  am  not  a  fanatic,  Tom  Wyatt,  even 
although  my  father  chose  the  blue.  But  my  true 
loyalty  just  now  is  to  my  —  my  husband."  She 
laughed,  moving  backward  as  I  impulsively  extended 
my  hands.  "  Do  not  take  this  statement  too  seri- 
ously, please.  We  must  play  out  the  play,  and  I 
accept  my  destiny.  Shall  we  go  now*?  Really  I  am 
actually  hungry." 

We  sat  over  the  poor  meal  a  long  while  talking 
largely  about  our  childhood  days,  and  bringing  back 
to  mind  earlier  acquaintances.  She  told  me  of  her 
home  life,  the  death  of  her  mother,  and  her  experi- 
ences while  away  at  school,  and,  largely  in  answer 
to  questions,  I  recounted  some  of  my  army  hard- 
ships, and  what  little  I  knew  of  the  battles  in  which 
I  had  borne  part.  But  the  one  topic  of  importance, 
although  it  must  have  lingered  constantly  in  both 
our  minds,  was  carefully  avoided.  Again  and  again 
I  endeavored  to  draw  her  thought  that  way,  only  to 
be  adroitly  diverted  into  safer  channels.  It  became, 
at  last,  so  evident  she  preferred  that  all  this  be 
ignored,  that  I  finally  desisted,  and  joined  with  her 


The  Cane  Ridge  Meeting  House       313 

in  light  reminiscences.  So  we  sat  in  the  sunlight, 
talking  like  old  friends,  laughing  over  revived  mem- 
ories, almost  forgetting  that  we  were  fugitives,  our 
very  lives  at  stake.  Twice  we  heard  guns,  but  the 
reports  were  but  distant  echoes,  sounding  afar  off 
to  the  westward.  Yet  these  made  me  nervous  to  get 
away,  and  when  a  number  sounded  together  —  al- 
most a  volley,  distinctly  audible,  I  hastened  to  pack 
what  little  remained  of  food  on  our  horses,  and 
prepare  for  immediate  departure.  I  led  the  way, 
fording  the  shallow  stream,  and  guiding  my  horse 
up  the  opposite  bank  into  the  deep  shadow  of  the 
woods  beyond.  Here  we  skirted  the  edge  of  the 
steep  hill,  finding  difficult  passage  over  rocks,  and 
amid  tangled  underbrush,  seeking  the  trail  whose 
exact  location  I  could  but  dimly  recall ;  yet  the  very 
lay  of  the  land  was  a  guide,  and  my  eyes,  anxiously 
searching  the  sharp  ascent  ahead,  finally  discerned 
the  dark  mouth  of  the  cave,  the  discovery  of  which 
led  to  our  turning  sharply  to  the  left. 

Noreen  dismounted  also,  and  thus  we  succeeded 
in  inducing  the  two  horses  to  clamber  upward  — 
slipping  and  sliding  on  the  steep  acclivity  —  until 
we  safely  attained  the  remnant  of  bridle  path, 
scarcely  discernible  because  of  lusty  weeds.  To  all 
appearance  it  had  been  unused  for  years,  and  in  places 
entirely  obliterated  by  rains.  Yet  it  was  plainly 


314  The  Red  Mist 


traceable,  although  neither  of  us  dared  to  mount, 
and  trust  to  the  uncertain  footing  of  the  horses. 
However,  bad  as  it  was,  it  was  now  too  late  to  retrace 
our  steps,  and  we  pressed  grimly  forward,  holding 
firm  to  the  bridle  reins,  and  moving  with  the  utmost 
caution.  As  we  mounted  higher,  twisting  and  turn- 
ing among  the  scrub,  the  valley  we  had  left  lay 
dark  and  mysterious  below,  the  sun  ever  sinking 
lower  behind  the  opposite  ridge,  until  its  final  rays 
fairly  bridged  the  chasm.  It  had  disappeared  en- 
tirely by  the  time  we  breathlessly  attained  the  top, 
yet  the  western  sky  was  red,  the  remaining  light 
amply  sufficient  to  enable  us  to  perceive  our  sur- 
roundings. Indeed,  it  would  be  an  hour,  perhaps 
more,  before  night  enshrouded  this  high  ridge. 

We  halted  beside  the  chimney  rock  to  regain 
breath  after  the  toilsome  climb,  and  assure  ourselves 
that  the  way  beyond  was  clear.  Noreen  seated  her- 
self on  the  ground,  and  the  horses  began  to  graze, 
but  I  walked  forward  to  where  I  could  gain  better 
view.  The  summit  of  the  hill  was  open,  except  for 
a  considerable  grove  to  the  rear  of  the  church.  That 
edifice  appeared,  as  I  remembered  it,  unchanged  in 
any  respect  —  a  fairly  large  building,  constructed 
solidly  of  logs,  with  square  clapboarded  tower  in 
front,  four  windows  on  each  side,  containing  small 
panes  of  glass,  a  number  of  them  broken.  We  were 


The  Cane  Ridge  Meeting  House       315 

at  the  rear,  which  showed  a  larger  window,  and  a 
narrow  door  at  one  corner,  protected  by  a  porch. 
It  appeared  desolate  and  deserted,  the  loneliness  ac- 
centuated by  the  empty  hitching  racks  on  either  side. 
Beyond  I  caught  glimpse  of  the  white  ribbon  of 
road,  running  straight  across  the  level,  and  dipping 
down  into  the  depression  beyond.  There  was  no 
movement,  no  sign  of  life,  anywhere  visible  —  just 
that  desolate,  deserted  church,  standing  in  rough 
outline  amid  the  red  mist  of  evening.  I  stood  silent, 
gazing  in  every  direction,  until  assured  that  we  were 
alone  on  the  ridge.  Then  I  retraced  my  steps  to 
where  she  waited. 

"  The  way  is  clear,"  I  said,  in  answer  to  her 
uplifted  eyes.  "  But  it  will  hardly  be  safe  to  take 
the  road  for  some  hours  yet.  Shall  we  remain  here"?  " 

"  If  you  think  it  safe  I  would  prefer  to  walk  for- 
ward to  the  church;  it  might  be  open." 

"  Oh,  I  imagine  it  will  be  safe  enough,  and  we 
can  leave  the  horses  here  out  of  sight.  But  are  you 
not  tired?  " 

"  No,"  rising  to  her  feet,  "  you  forget  I  am  a 
mountain  girl.  I  was  breathless  from  tugging  at 
the  horse ;  but  I  am  all  right  now.  They  say  you  can 
see  the  road  for  miles  from  the  church  tower." 

"  Then  we  will  take  a  peep,  if  we  can  break  in 
before  daylight  ends;  I  had  not  thought  of  that." 


316  The  Red  Mist 


We  advanced  side  by  side  along  what  was  once 
a  well-trodden  path,  making  no  attempt  at  con- 
cealment. Indeed,  any  such  effort  would  have  been 
useless,  as  the  crest  of  the  ridge  lay  open,  and  bare 
of  vegetation,  but  I  was  so  fully  convinced  we  were 
unobserved  that  I  took  no  precaution  —  my  entire 
thought,  indeed,  centered  upon  the  girl  at  my  side. 
The  small  door  at  the  rear  of  the  church  resisted 
our  efforts  at  opening,  and  we  advanced  to  the  front 
entrance,  passing  between  the  walls  of  the  church 
and  the  row  of  hitching  posts.  All  remained  silent, 
the  purple  haze  of  twilight  beginning  to  show  along 
the  distant  ridges.  The  heavy  latch  of  the  front 
door  lifted  easily  to  the  pressure  of  my  hand,  and  we 
stepped  into  a  narrow  vestibule,  Noreen  grasping 
my  arm  nervously,  as  she  faced  the  shadowed  in- 
terior of  the  deserted  building.  Some  instinct  of 
caution  caused  me  to  close  the  door  behind  us,  and 
then  I  drew  her  forward,  laughing  at  her  fears,  until 
we  obtained  glimpse  of  the  larger  room,  already  be- 
coming obscured  by  the  approaching  night.  It  was 
a  rather  shabby  looking  place,  not  overly  clean  even 
in  that  merciful  dimness,  a  huge  stove,  rusty  red, 
occupying  the  space  between  the  two  doors,  the  stove- 
pipe extending  to  the  opposite  wall.  Rude  benches, 
without  backs,  stretched  almost  from  wall  to  wall, 
a  narrow  aisle  leading  to  the  pulpit,  set  within  an 


The  Cane  Ridge  Meeting  House       317 

alcove,  and  scarcely  discernible  except  in  barest  out- 
lines. Everything  was  lonely  and  depressing,  the 
silence  unbroken.  A  clock,  run  down,  stared  at  me 
from  the  further  end,  and  I  recognized  a  big  Bible, 
lying  open  on  the  gaunt  pulpit  stand.  A  book  of 
some  kind,  dog's-eared  and  coverless,  lay  on  the  floor 
at  my  feet,  and  I  bent  to  pick  it  up.  As  I  came 
upright  again,  a  man  stepped  out  from  the  shadow  of 
a  corner,  and  the  steel  barrel  of  a  revolver  flashed  be- 
fore my  eyes.  I  felt  Noreen  cringe  against  me,  utter- 
ing a  muffled  cry. 

"  Stand  as  yer  are,  Yank,"  said  a  rather  pleasant 
voice.    "  Pardon  me,  lady." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

WITH  BACKS  TO  THE  WALL 

E  WAS  a  young  fellow,  with  bold  black 

•  ) 

eyes,  a  little  jaunty  mustache,  and  a 


mouth  inclined  to  laugh,  but  what  I 
stared  at  in  open-eyed  astonishment,  was 
his  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  natty  gray  cavalry 
jacket. 

"  Some  surprise  party,  I  reckon,"  he  chuckled 
grimly.  "  What  was  this,  a  church  wedding,  dear 
boy?  Here,  Wharton,  kindly  relieve  the  gentleman 
of  his  arsenal;  ah!  some  assortment,  I  see.  Your 
pardon,  Madam,  but  occasionally  even  the  fair  sex 
travel  armed  these  days,  and  I  should  hate  to  be 
harsh.  Thank  you,  very  much;  Wharton  take  the 
lady's  gun  also.  It's  all  right,  boys." 

To  my  unbounded  amazement  up  from  the  floor, 
where  they  had  been  lying  concealed  beneath  the 
benches  a  considerable  number  of  men  came  scram- 
bling to  their  feet.  I  could  not  count  them  in  the 
dim  light,  but  those  nearest  me  were  gray  clad  — 
troopers,  from  their  short  jackets  —  with  carbines 
in  their  hands.  Wharton,  our  revolvers  safe  in  his 
grasp,  grinned  and  stepped  behind  his  officer. 

318 


With  Backs  to  the  Wall  319 

"Who,  in  heavens  name,  are  you?"  I  asked,  at 
last  finding  my  voice.  "  Confederates  here"?  " 

"  Your  first  guess  is  an  excellent  one,"  he  an- 
swered lightly,  evidently  enjoying  the  scene.  "  It 
evidences  a  well  disciplined  mind,  and  marvelous 
power  of  observation.  Yes,  my  Yankee  friend,  you 
now  behold  Confederates,  Johnny  Rebs,  the  enemy; 
you  have  the  honor  of  being  prisoner  to  the  Third 
Kentucky  Cavalry.  Wharton." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Conduct  the  lady  and  gentleman  to  the  sanctity 
of  the  pulpit,  Sergeant,  where  they  may  commune 
with  the  presiding  genius  of  this  house  of  worship 
erected  in  the  wilderness,  imagine  not,"  he  con- 
tinued with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  "  that  the  blackened 
optic  which  adorns  the  ministerial  countenance  was 
a  gift  of  the  Confederacy.  Far  be  it  from  us," 
bowing  humbly  to  the  astonished  Noreen,  "  to  war 
against  either  ladies,  or  the  church ;  beauty  and  good- 
ness are  ever  safe  in  our  hands,  and  I  assure  you 
both  that  the  reverend  gentleman  was  delivered  into 
our  care  in  his  present  condition  of  disfigurement." 

"  You  mean  you  hold  prisoner  Parson  Nichols?  " 
I  asked,  scarcely  grasping  the  sense  of  his  rambling 
speech. 

"  No  doubt  'tis  he,  although  I  have  no  recollection 
that  he  has  confided  his  name  to  our  ears.  We 


320  The  Red  Mist 


discovered  the  party  alone  in  this  edifice  of  worship, 
nursing  sundry  bruises  and  abrasions,  and  feeling 
that  probably  he  was  of  the  Church  Militant,  held 
him  for  the  pleasure  of  his  company.  Stone, 
Michels,  return  to  the  front ;  now,  Sergeant,  you  may 
take  the  prisoners." 

"  Just  a  moment,  Lieutenant,"  and  I  faced  him 
squarely,  ignoring  the  grip  of  Wharton's  hand  on 
my  arm.  "  There  is  no  reason  to  hold  us  prisoners; 
all  there  is  Yankee  about  me  is  this  uniform.  I  have 
just  escaped  from  the  Federal  guard  at  Lewisburg." 

His  eyes  laughing,  yet  suspicious,  swept  our  faces. 

"  I'm  not  easily  fooled,"  he  said,  "  but  ready 
enough  to  learn.  Who  are  you4?  " 

"  Thomas  Wyatt,  Sergeant,  Staunton  Horse 
Artillery." 

"  Who  is  your  captain1?  " 

"  Philip  Lavigne." 

"  Good;  and  your  first  lieutenant?  " 

"  George  E.  Whitehouse." 

"Ah!  you  know  the  battery,  all  right.  When 
were  you  with  them  last?  " 

"  Ten  days  ago,  in  camp  at  Front  Royal." 

"  By  all  the  gods,  it  soundeth  strange  but  true. 
Come,  clear  up  the  mystery  —  how  came  you  here?  " 

"  On  Jackson's  orders.  I  was  born  in  this  county, 
and  because  of  that  he  chose  me  to  find  out  the 


With  Backs  to  the  Wall  321 

numbers,  and  disposition  of  the  Federal  troops  in  this 
neighborhood,  together  with  some  other  facts  he 
wished  to  know.  I  was  captured  in  Federal  uniform, 
and  held  under  death  sentence  as  a  spy.  I  escaped 
last  night." 

"And  the  woman*?  " 

She  threw  back  the  cape  which  had  partially  con- 
cealed her  face,  revealing  her  bright  eyes  and  flushed 
cheeks. 

"  Permit  me  to  answer  for  myself,  Lieutenant 
Harwood." 

"  You !   how  do  you  know  my  name?  " 

"  From  your  regiment,  sir,  as  well  as  certain  char- 
acteristics of  speech  I  have  heard  described.  I  am 
your  cousin." 

"My  —  my  cousin*?  Heaven  be  praised!  I 
never  knew  there  was  so  much  beauty  in  our  family. 
My  cousin !  Hold,  till  I  guess  a  bit  —  not  Noreen 
Harwood  <?  " 

She  nodded,  her  red  lips  smiling. 

"  Noreen  Harwood !  Why,  it  takes  me  off  my 
feet.  Yet  wait,  how  comes  it  you  are  here  with  one 
claiming  to  be  on  our  side*?  Did  I  not  hear  that  my 
uncle  served  on  Ramsay's  staff  —  ay!  a  major4?  " 

"  My  father  is  dead,"  she  answered  simply,  the 
brightness  vanishing  from  her  face.  "  He  was  killed 
only  a  few  days  ago." 


322  The  Red  Mist 

"  I  regret  to  learn  that,  cousin,"  and  he  held  out 
his  hand,  "  for  while  I  never  met  him  or  you  be- 
fore, my  father  held  him  in  most  high  regard.  Yet  I 
beg  you  pardon  me  if  I  perform  my  duty  as  a  soldier, 
even  under  these  conditions.  We  are  a  small  band,  in 
the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country,  and  cannot  afford 
any  unnecessary  risk.  Who  is  this  man?  and  why 
are  you  here  with  him?  " 

"  He  has  told  you  the  truth,"  she  answered  quiet- 
ly, her  hand  still  within  his.  "  I  have  known  him 
from  childhood." 

"  He  is  a  Confederate  soldier,  then?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you,  cousin?  " 

"  I  —  I  am  his  wife." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  of  hesitation.  I 
heard  the  soldiers  moving  about  the  room,  and  the 
murmur  of  voices  speaking  cautiously.  Then  Har- 
wood  released  her  hand,  and  extended  his  own  to 
me,  his  eyes  frank  and  cordial. 

"  I  accept  you  on  faith,  comrade,"  he  said  pleas- 
antly, "  but  there  is  a  spare  gray  jacket  strapped  to 
my  saddle  yonder  more  becoming  than  that  blue 
coat.  Here,  Stone,"  with  a  glance  over  his  shoulder, 
and  a  crispness  to  his  voice,  "  get  the  extra  blouse 
from  off  my  horse,  and  bring  it  here;  run  low,  lad, 
and  keep  in  the  shadow.  Saint  Christopher !  but  'tis 


With  Backs  to  the  Wall  323 

a  most  happy  family  reunion  we're  having;  I'll 
want  the  story  presently,  but  now  I  must  look  to  my 
men.  'Tis  no  easy  game  we  are  playing." 

"  Let  me  understand  that,  Lieutenant,"  I  ex- 
claimed, as  he  turned  away.  "  How  does  it  hap- 
pen you  are  here?  and  for  what  purpose*?  " 

"  A  wild  plan  of  my  own,  aided  and  abetted  by 
the  commander  at  Covington.  We  are  of  the  garri- 
son there,"  he  explained  briefly,  his  glance  searching 
out  the  dim  interior.  "  The  Yankees  have  a  forage 
train  out  as  far  as  Hot  Springs,  under  small  guard. 
'Tis  the  farthest  east  they  have  ever  ventured,  and 
our  scouts  brought  the  news.  To  this  mind  came 
the  brilliant  thought  of  cutting  them  off  on  their  re- 
turn march,  and  I  got  permission  for  the  dash.  We 
took  the  cut-off,  and  landed  here  about  daylight. 
The  train  should  have  been  along  before  now,  but 
there  is  no  sign  of  it." 

"  You  have  been  in  hiding  here  all  day,  and  seen 
nothing?  " 

"  Oh !  we've  seen  enough,"  and  he  laughed.  "  But 
nothing  we  cared  to  measure  swords  with.  The  road 
yonder  appears  popular,  but,  by  good  luck,  no 
Yankee  shows  an  eagerness  to  attend  church.  There 
was  a  gang  of  mountain  men  along  by  here  maybe 
two  hours  ago  who  rode  up  to  the  door,  and  took  a 
look  at  the  shebang.  WTiether  they  were  Yank  or 


324  The  Red  Mist 


Reb  I  didn't  know.  Anyhow  we  were  willing  enough 
to  see  them  pass  on  out  o'  sight.  They  looked  and 
talked  as  though  they  were  spoiling  for  a  fight." 

"How  many?" 

"  Thirty,  or  forty  —  a  right  smart  crowd.  There 
was  only  two  come  up,  and  rode  round  the  church  — 
a  big  fellow  with  a  red  beard,  and  a  little  weasened- 
faced  fox  he  called  Kelly." 

"  Yes,  I  know  them;  they  were  hunting  after  us. 
Did  they  go  on  east?  " 

"  They  did.  So  has  everyone  else  we've  seen  to- 
day. That's  what  puzzled  us,  as  to  just  what  might 
be  up.  I  reckon  you  must  be  some  popular  to  create 
such  a  furore.  Why,  an  hour  after  sun-up  a  whole 
blame  company  of  blue-coats  went  by,  riding  like 
mad,  their  horses  dripping,  and  a  young  fellow  spur- 
ring them  on.  He'd  lost  his  hat,  and  they  never 
so  much  as  took  a  side-look  at  this  shebang.  They 
were  in  some  hurry,  my  friend." 

"And  neither  party  has  returned?" 

"  Not  a  sign  of  them." 

"  What  force  have  you  here?  " 

"  Twenty-eight  enlisted  men." 

"  You  have  pickets  out?  " 

"  One  man  each  way,  a  mile  down  the  road,  con- 
cealed. The  tower  up  there  commands  the  country 
in  both  directions." 


With  Backs  to  the  Wall  325 

"  And  your  horses'?  " 

"  Hidden  in  the  grove  yonder." 

I  grasped  the  situation  clearly  enough,  and  also 
comprehended  the  reckless  nonchalance  of  the  offi- 
cer. What  was  his  purpose*?  his  present  plan1?  It 
appeared  to  me  that  the  conditions  warranted  a  re- 
treat, back  along  the  unfrequented  mountain  trail  by 
which  this  daring  party  of  adventurers  had  come. 
The  troops,  as  well  as  the  guerrillas,  must  have  dis- 
covered by  this  time  that  we  were  not  in  advance  of 
them.  They  would  return  searching  every  nook  and 
corner  in  hope  of  discovering  our  hiding  place.  They 
might  even  unite  their  forces,  impelled  as  they  were 
by  the  same  desire,  and  thus  become  truly  formid- 
able. Personal  hatred  of  me,  and  the  wish  to  re- 
gain possession  of  Noreen,  would  animate  and  con- 
trol both  Anse  Cowan  and  the  angry,  humiliated 
lieutenant.  While  neither  would  likely  confess  his 
purpose  to  the  other,  yet  their  mutual  interests  would 
naturally  suggest  an  alliance.  And  there  was  no  war 
feud  between  the  two  which  would  necessarily  pre- 
vent their  cooperation.  Indeed,  the  troopers  would 
gladly  welcome  any  excuse  which  would  bring 
Cowan's  gang  of  outlaws  into  closer  connection. 
And  the  outfit  would  never  pass  by  this  church  again 
without  searching  its  interior.  Only  eagerness,  a 
haste  to  overtake  us  in  our  attempted  flight,  had  led 


326  The  Red  Mist 

to  their  blind  riding  by  before.  I  turned  to  Har- 
wood,  who  was  whispering  nonsense  to  Noreen. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do,  Lieutenant*?  "  I  asked 
quietly,  but  with  my  own  mind  made  up.  "  Remain 
here?" 

He  stroked  his  small  moustache. 

"  I  thought  we  might  hang  on  until  midnight, 
Wyatt,  and  then,  if  nothing  happened,  take  the  back 
trail.  I  don't  want  to  pass  another  day  in  this  cussed 
hole.  What  do  you  think*?  " 

"  That  the  sooner  we  get  away  the  better,"  I  an- 
swered promptly.  "  Your  position  here  is  far  more 
dangerous  than  you  appear  to  realize.  Both  those 
parties  travelling  east  were  in  search  after  us;  they 
were  led  by  men  who  would  go  to  any  extreme  to 
effect  our  capture.  I  haven't  time  to  tell  you  the 
whole  story  now,  but  it  involves  your  cousin  as  well 
as  myself.  They  rode  straight  on  because  they  were 
convinced  we  were  still  ahead  of  them.  'Tis  likely 
they  know  better  now,  and  will  search  every  ravine 
and  covert  on  their  return.  If  the  forage  train  is 
moving  this  way  those  cavalrymen  are  with  it  in 
addition  to  the  regular  guard,  and  you  will  never 
dare  attack  with  your  small  force.  The  only  chance 
you  have  of  bringing  your  command  safely  back  to 
Covington,  Lieutenant,  is  to  get  away  before  your 
presence  here  is  suspected." 


With  Backs  to  the  Wall  327 

"  I  suppose  that's  right,"  he  admitted  reluctantly. 
"  But  I  don't  like  to  turn  tail  without  hitting  a  blow 
—  it's  not  the  style  of  the  Third  Kentucky.  We 
could  give  a  good  account  of  ourselves  against  those 
Yankee  troopers." 

"  Possibly;  but  not  against  a  combination  of 
troopers,  wagon  guard,  and  Cowan's  gang  of  guer- 
rillas. They  would  outnumber  you  four  to  one ;  and 
they  are  fighting  men." 

"  You  think  they  will  combine*?  " 

"  If  they  meet,  and  there  is  an  explanation  — 
yes.  Cowan  doesn't  care  which  side  he  fights  on, 
so  he  gains  his  end,  and  the  cavalry  commander  will 
welcome  any  reinforcements.  They  might  quarrel 
later  over  results,  but  now  they  possess  a  common 
object,  and  will  be  like  two  peas  in  a  pod.  Do  as 
you  please,  Harwood,  but  I  am  not  under  your  com- 
mand, and,  if  you  choose  to  remain  here,  we  will  ride 
on  alone.  Will  you  go  with  me,  Noreen*?  " 

She  had  not  spoken,  and  in  the  fast  increasing 
gloom  I  could  scarcely  distinguish  her  presence.  But 
at  my  direct  question  she  took  a  step  toward  me, 
and  I  felt  the  presence  of  her  hand  on  my  sleeve. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  simply,  "  whenever  you  think 
best.  Cousin,"  she  added,  glancing  across  her  shoul- 
der at  the  perplexed  officer,  "  I  would  like  you  to 
come  too." 


328  The  Red  Mist 

He  laughed,  wheeling  about  in  sudden  decision. 

"  I  reckon  I  might  as  well,"  he  admitted  good 
humoredly,  "  as  long  as  the  family  endorses  the 
move.  Wharton,  have  the  pickets  drawn  in,  and 
the  men  mustered.  "  We'll  start  —  Great  God ! 
What  is  that?  " 

It  was  the  sound  of  a  scattered  volley,  the  pieces 
not  all  of  the  same  caliber,  the  reports  ringing  clear. 
In  the  instant  of  silence  which  followed,  a  voice 
called  down  excitedly  from  the  tower: 

"  There  is  firing  to  the  east,  sir." 

"  How  far  away,  Somers*?  "  It  was  the  sergeant 
who  spoke. 

"'Bout  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  I  reckon;  the  flash 
showed  up  a  bunch  o'  men  this  side  o'  the  big  rock. 
They  must  o'  got  sight  o'  Hardy,  sir,  an'  popped 
away  at  him ;  thet's  'bout  whar  he  was." 

Harwood  swore,  but  his  sudden  oath  was  not  alto- 
gether uncheerful,  as  he  strode  across  to  the  nearest 
window  on  that  side,  and  endeavored  to  peer  out. 
Except  for  a  faint  tinge  of  light  in  the  west,  and  a 
half  moon  in  the  southern  sky,  we  were  enveloped  in 
darkness.  I  could  scarcely  distinguish  the  girl  at  my 
side,  although  the  windows  emitted  a  slight  glimmer, 
and  the  form  of  the  lieutenant  outlined  against  the 
opening  was  dimly  visible.  I  doubt  if  he  perceived 
anything,  but  we  all  of  us  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs, 


With  Backs  to  the  Wall  329 

and  the  approaching  rumble  of  wagon  wheels.  Har- 
wood  turned,  and  faced  inward. 

"  It's  the  forage  train,  boys,"  he  said  sharply, 
"  with  a  bunch  of  cavalry  riding  ahead.  Get  to  the 
windows,  but  be  quiet  about  it  —  you  know  the 
orders.  By  God !  Wharton,  we're  liable  to  have  our 
fight  yet.  Have  the  men  load ;  come  with  me,  Wyatt, 
where  we  can  see  out  in  front." 

Noreen  clung  to  me,  as  I  groped  my  way  through 
the  narrow  door  into  the  vestibule.  It  could  make  lit- 
tle difference  where  she  was  in  case  we  were  discov- 
ered and  attacked;  better,  indeed,  that  we  remain 
together.  At  the  open  window  I  held  her  hands, 
and  the  three  of  us  watched  in  silence,  staring  out 
at  the  white  ribbon  of  road  revealed  under  the  moon, 
the  noise  of  the  approaching  column  growing  more 
distinct. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  TRAP  CLOSES 

HE  lieutenant's  fingers  gripped  my  shoul- 
der. 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry,   the  fellows 
make  noise  enough  for  an  army,"  he 
whispered.     "  I  reckon  they  are  all  there." 

"  No  doubt  of  it  —  how  is  your  ammunition*?  " 
"  Sixty  rounds  to  a  man,"  he  chuckled.  "  It  will 
cost  them  something  to  get  through  these  log  walls. 
Still,  we  haven't  much  chance  in  the  end,"  he  added 
thoughtfully,  "  for  they're  bound  to  get  us.  Gen- 
erally I  pray  for  a  fight,  but  now  I  hope  those  Yanks 
will  be  kind  enough  to  ride  by." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  I  answered  soberly,  feeling  the 
quick  pressure  of  Noreen's  fingers.  "  There  they 
come,  Harwood  —  see !  two  horsemen  ahead." 

They  were  merely  black  shadows  outlined  against 
the  white  road,  but  as  they  drew  somewhat  closer 
the  moonlight  gave  them  substance,  revealing  dimly 
the  shape  and  clothing  of  each.  One  was  slender, 
sitting  straight  in  the  saddle,  to  all  appearance  a 
cavalryman;  but  the  other  slouched  awkwardly  over 
his  pommel,  a  larger,  more  shapeless  figure,  the  bar- 

330 


The  Trap  Closes  331 

rel  of  a  rifle  showing  clear  above  his  shoulder,  a 
broad  hat-brim  flapping  to  the  movements  of  his 
horse.  They  drew  rein  opposite  the  church,  the 
cavalryman's  horse  turned  partly  about.  In  the  dis- 
tance, down  the  sharp  slope  of  the  hill,  appeared  the 
deeper  shadow  of  an  advancing  column  of  mounted 
men.  The  only  sound  was  the  impatient  pawing  of 
a  horse's  hoof,  and  Noreen's  whisper  at  my  ear : 
"  The  —  the  bigger  one  is  Anse  Cowan." 

*jfj 

"And  the  other  Raymond,"  I  returned  in  the 
same  low  tone.  "  The  two  have  apparently  got  to- 
gether." 

"  It  looks  mighty  odd  to  me,"  said  a  voice  sud- 
denly, clearly  audible  through  the  night,  "  that  fel- 
low being  in  Reb  uniform.  What  could  he  be  doing 
here?  " 

"  A  scout,  I  reckon,"  grumbled  a  reply,  barely  dis- 
tinguishable. "  Couldn't  be  no  considerable  force 
along  yere,  Lieutenant,  fer  we've  both  been  over 
ther  pike  since  mornin'.  Thet  wus  just  a  stray  we 
run  into,  but  it  mout  be  best  ter  take  a  look  along  this 
yere  ridge  afore  we  ride  on." 

"  All  right,"  asserted  the  other.  "  I'll  wait  here 
until  Fox  and  Moran  come  up.  Let  some  of  your 
men  ride  back  as  far  as  those  woods  over  yonder ;  and 
say,  it  wouldn't  do  any  harm  to  take  a  look  inside 
the  church.  You  didn't  stop  coming  out?  " 


332  The  Red  Mist 


"  Naw;'  we  didn't  stop  fer  nuthin'.  We  thought 
the  way  you  fellers  was  a'ridin'  yer  hed  a  hot  trail, 
an'  so  we  rode  like  hell  ter  git  in  at  the  death. 
'Tain't  likely  thar's  enyone  inside  the  meetin'  house, 
but  I  reckon  we  may  as  well  be  sure  as  long  as  we're 
here.  No  damn  fool  would  hide  this  close  ter  the 
pike.  That  you,  Kelly?  " 

There  was  a  meaningless  growl  from  an  advanc- 
ing group  of  horsemen,  and  Anse  swore,  spurring 
his  horse  forward  to  meet  them. 

"  By  God,  Kelly !  I've  had  enough  of  your  damned 
grouch.  Either  you'll  do  as  I  say,  or  I'll  cave  the  side 
of  your  head  in,  and  have  done  with  it.  I've  had 
enough !  do  you  hear?  I  reckon  I'm  just  as  interested 
in  overhaulin'  that  cuss  as  you  are.  Now  you  obey 
my  orders,  an'  be  quick  about  it;  give  me  another 
line  of  back  talk,  you  Irish  bastard,  an'  I'll  blow  the 
whole  top  of  your  head  off !  You're  what?  Joking ! 
Well,  let  up  on  that  kind,  will  you?  I'm  in  no 
humor  for  it.  Take  three  or  four  men,  and  ride  over 
the  ridge,  back  as  far  as  the  rock.  The  sojers  are 
goin'  ter  halt  yere  a  minute." 

Kelly  and  his  little  squad  trotted  past  us,  circling 
the  end  of  the  building,  the  remainder  of  the  group 
of  horsemen,  evidently  composed  of  Cowan's  gang 
of  cut-throats,  scattering  along  the  roadside,  with  no 
semblance  to  military  discipline.  A  few  kept  to  their 


The  Trap  Closes  333 

saddles,  permitting  their  horses  to  browse  idly  among 
the  weeds,  but  the  majority  dismounted,  and  flung 
themselves  wearily  on  the  ground.  A  dozen  strolled 
across  to  the  well  a  few  yards  away,  and  we  could 
hear  them  laugh  and  joke  among  themselves,  as  the 
windlass  creaked.  Raymond  drew  his  horse  back, 
away  from  close  contact  with  the  fellows,  staring 
at  their  antics  a  moment,  and  then  looking  toward 
the  black  silence  of  the  church.  He  said  nothing, 
but  finally  touched  spur  to  his  horse's  flanks,  and 
went  trotting  back  down  the  road,  as  though  intend- 
ing to  intercept  the  advancing  column,  which  was 
not  yet  visible.  Cowan  looked  after  him  with  a 
sneer. 

"  The  damned  dandy,"  he  growled  to  a  man  just 
behind,  gesturing  with  one  hand.  "  We're  not  quite 
good  enough  fer  him,  but  I'll  show  him  afore  this 
job's  done  who's  the  boss.  By  God!  I  don't  take 
orders  from  nothin'  like  that.  Would  you,  Jem'? " 

"  I  should  say  not,"  responded  the  other,  spitting 
into  the  road.  "  Whatever  got  us  tied  up  yere  with 
these  Yanks,  Anse,  enyhow  *?  I  done  thought  as  how 
we  wus  a  fightin'  against  the  blue-bellies  a  bit  ago; 
an'  now  we're  as  thick  as  two  fleas.  Did  yer  git  yer 
price?" 

Cowan  laughed  grimly. 

"  Thar  ain't  no  occasion  fer  yer  ter  worry,  Jem," 


334  The  Red  Mist 


he  confided,  evidently  willing  the  others  close  about 
should  hear.  "  We  ain't  tied  up  with  no  Yanks, 
'cept  fer  maybe  a  few  hours.  Helll.thar  wasn't 
nothin'  else  ter  do,  but  be  friendly.  Thar  wus  thirty 
o'  us  runnin'  kerbump  inter  thet  bunch  o'  cavalry- 
men, with  ther  wagon  train  a  comin'  a  hundred  yards 
away. 

"  We  weren't  in  no  shape  fer  ter  fight  about  a  hun- 
dred an'  fifty  sojers.  I  reckon  tho'  we'd  a  had  to  if 
that  young  popinjay  hed  been  in  command  —  he 
ain't  got  the  sense  of  a  dried  louse.  But  Cap  Fox, 
he  rode  out,  an'  we  sorter  talked  it  over.  He  don't 
feel  very  blame  kind  toward  me  since  our  fracas 
tother  night,  but  he's  a  sojer,  an'  he  knows  what 
Ramsay  wants.  Thet's  what  I  banked  on,  fer  I  knew 
the  gineral  had  give  his  orders  ter  use  every  means 
possible  ter  git  us  ter  help  out  the  Yanks.  So  I  just 
up  an'  told  ther  Cap  thet  we  wus  out  huntin'  fer  ther 
same  feller  he  wus;  thet  my  father  had  been  killed, 
an'  I  reckoned  the  Reb  spy  did  it,  an'  thet  frum  now 
on  we  wus  goin'  fer  ter  fight  on  their  side.  I  don't 
reckon  as  how  he  believed  much  o'  what  I  sed,  but 
all  ther  same,  he  had  ter  pretend  he  did,  an'  let  us 
go  'long  without  no  fightin'.  So  he  done  sent  us  on 
ahead,  an'  sent  thet  young  snip  along  fer  ter  watch 
me.  Thet's  the  how  it  happened." 

"  I  see,  an'  termorrer  we  leaves  them  holdin'  the 


The  Trap  Closes  335 

bag  —  Hullo,  Anse !  look  thar  —  it's  Kelly  comin' 
back,  an',  by  Jinks !  he's  a  leadin'  two  bosses." 

The  returning  party  came  clattering  out  into  the 
road,  past  the  well,  Kelly  asking  loudly  where 
Cowan  was,  and  then  riding  straight  toward  his 
chief,  the  two  riderless  horses  trailing  in  the  rear. 

"  They  was  hobbled  back  o'  ther  chimney  rock," 
he  reported  shortly,  "  an'  I  reckon  they'd  been  rid  up 
the  old  trail  from  Silver  Spring." 

Anse  swung  down  to  the  ground,  and  ran  his 
hands  over  the  animals,  fingering  the  equipment. 

"  Not  cavalry  stuff,"  he  said,  "  so  tain't  likely 
they  belonged  ter  the  Reb  we  shot  back  thar  in  the 
hollow.  Didn't  the  lieutenant  say  thet  the  spy  an' 
the  gurl  got  off  on  horses  hitched  by  the  hotel  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  hear  tell." 

"Well,  I  did;  enyhow  they  wasn't  army  horses 
they  took.  By  God !  I  believe  they're  a  hidin'  now 
in  that  church.  Here,  you  Kelly,"  a  new  exultant 
tone  to  his  voice,  "  scatter  your  men  out  around  ther 
whol'  buildin';  we've  treed  our  game,  I  reckon. 
Hell !  hurry  up,  man !  don't  sit  there  starin'  at  me. 
Hey,  Jem!  where  are  you?  Oh,  all  right;  ride  back 
to  the  sojers,  an'  tell  Fox  we've  got  the  coon.  Go 
on  now.  Wait  a  minute,  Kelly ;  leave  ten  of  the  fel- 
lers here  with  me.  I'll  look  after  the  front.  Don't 
forget  thar's  a  back  door." 


836  The  Red  Mist 

The  guerrillas  came  forward  on  foot,  running,  and 
scrambling  up  the  incline,  but  inclined  to  keep  well 
back  from  the  silent  church.  Yet  they  did  not  seem 
to  take  their  mission  seriously,  laughing  and  talking 
as  they  ran,  Kelly's  voice  growling  out  commands. 
Even  if  their  victim  was  within  those  log  walls, 
they  had  little  to  fear  from  one  man ;  there  might  be 
a  shot  or  two  fired,  of  course,  but  the  odds  were 
far  too  great  for  them  to  entertain  any  doubt  as  to 
the  result.  Anse  remained  out  in  the  road  motion- 
less, holding  his  horse,  a  dark  shapeless  group 
of  men  gathered  about  him.  Jem  was  clattering 
down  the  pike,  the  clang  of  his  horse's  hoofs  dying 
away  in  the  distance.  Harwood  dropped  his  grip- 
ping hand  from  off  my  shoulder,  and  stepped  back 
from  before  the  window. 

"  Sergeant." 

"  Here,  sir,"  and  Wharton  moved  slightly  in  the 
darkness,  so  as  to  signify  his  whereabouts. 

"  You  attended  to  the  door?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  we  found  an  old  iron  bar  to  fit  across; 
they'll  have  to  crush  in  the  wood  to  get  through." 

"Good;  we'll  give  those  devils  a  surprise  party; 
there  will  be  some  dead  men  around  here  presently. 
I'll  take  charge  here  at  the  front;  you  have  men  at 
the  other  window*?" 

"  Five,  sir." 


The  Trap  Closes  337 

"  Let  Johnson  and  Mcllvaine  join  me  here;  what 
is  the  name  of  that  lad  I  was  going  to  recommend 
for  corporal4?  " 

"  O'Hare,  sir;  Jacob  O'Hare." 

"  Put  him  in  command  of  the  south  side,  and 
you  take  the  north;  place  benches  to  stand  on  under 
the  windows,  but  keep  your  men  down  until  you  get 
the  word.  There  is  to  be  no  firing  until  I  give  the 
order.  Tell  them  they  have  got  to  fight  for  their 
lives.  You  understand*?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  we'll  do  it,  sir." 

"  Then  get  to  your  stations.  Now,  Wyatt,  how 
about  you*?  ready  to  take  a  hand?  " 

"  I  place  myself  under  your  orders." 

"Then  I  give  you  command  at  the  other  end; 
there  are  two  windows  and  a  door.  Here,  take  this 
gun,  and  belt;  I  can  get  another."  He  stopped,  and 
drew  in  a  quick  breath,  glancing  out  again  through 
the  window. 

"  Friend  Cowan  —  if  that  be  his  name  —  seems 
to  be  waiting  for  the  military  to  come  up,"  he  com- 
mented mockingly.  "  Prefers  to  let  the  Yanks  pull 
his  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire.  Perhaps  he  has  known 
you  a  long  while  —  hey,  Wyatt  *?  " 

"  The  acquaintance  has  been  rather  brief,  but 
warm." 

"  No  doubt;  well,  I'll  help  make  it  warmer  pres- 


338  The  Red  Mist 

ently.  Fair  cousin,  I  do  not  know  where  to  hide  you 
in  safety.  This  is  going  to  be  a  real  fight,  or  I  am 
greatly  mistaken,  and  bullets  fly  wild  through  the 
dark." 

"  I  suggest  the  tower,"  I  interrupted,  "  with  the 
ladder  drawn  up;  the  heavy  puncheon  floor  will  be 
sufficient  protection." 

"  I  thought  of  that  expedient,"  he  admitted,  "  but 
we  will  let  the  lady  decide." 

"  If  it  is  left  to  me,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  prefer  to 
go  with  Tom  Wyatt." 

"  But  you  do  not  understand,"  I  broke  in  hastily, 
my  pulses  throbbing  at  her  unexpected  decision. 
"  They  may  attack  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  lady  does,  Wyatt,"  chuckled  the 
lieutenant,  his  reckless  good  nature  in  no  wise  lost 
by  the  desperation  of  our  position.  "  She  is  a  Har- 
wood,  that's  all.  Lord!  I  knew  what  her  choice 
would  be  before  ever  I  asked  the  question.  Greet- 
ings, fair  cousin;  now  I  know  we  are  kin.  Hullo! 
here  comes  the  cavalry!  Now,  men,  to  your  posts 
—  and  stand  up  to  the  music." 

I  caught  her  hand  in  mine,  still  doubtful  as  to  her 
real  purpose.  In  the  reflection  of  the  moonlight  I 
could  perceive  the  outline  of  her  face,  and  knew  her 
eyes  were  uplifted  frankly  to  mine. 

"  You  —  you  mean  that,  Noreen*?  " 


The  Trap  Closes  339 

"  Yes;  do  not  refuse.  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  im- 
plored. "  Take  me  with  you." 

I  found  the  door,  and  the  narrow  aisle  leading  be- 
tween the  two  rows  of  benches.  Enough  moonlight 
straggled  in  through  the  side  windows  to  enable  us  to 
pick  our  way,  and  to  note  the  dark,  motionless  shad- 
ows along  the  side  walls  where  the  troopers  waited 
grimly,  guns  poised  and  ready.  There  was  a  tense 
breathlessness  to  the  situation  which  made  my  heart 
leap,  not  a  sound  audible  within  but  the  low  whispers 
as  some  order  passed  from  man  to  man  down  the 
line.  We  came  to  the  platform,  and  felt  our  way  up 
the  steps.  It  was  darker  here,  yet  my  eyes,  accus- 
tomed to  the  gloom,  caught  glimpse  of  crouching 
figures  beyond  the  pulpit.  Outside,  sounding  some 
distance  away,  Kelly's  sharp,  penetrating  voice 
shouted  an  order,  accompanied  by  an  oath.  One  of 
the  kneeling  figures  rose  slowly  until  his  eyes  were 
even  with  the  window  sill. 

"  Men,"  I  said  quietly,  barely  loud  enough  to 
reach  their  ears.  "  I  am  a  sergeant  in  the  Staunton 
Horse  Artillery.  Your  lieutenant  has  just  assigned 
me  to  take  command  at  this  end  of  the  church.  How 
many  are  there  of  you*?  " 

"  Ten,  sir,"  answered  the  one  nearest,  after  a 
pause,  turning  his  head  slightly.  "  Three  at  each 
window,  and  four  at  the  door." 


340  The  Red  Mist 

"  Door  barred?  " 

"  No,  locked,  and  benches  piled  up  against  it." 

"  You  have  a  prisoner,  I  understand." 

He  gave  a  muffled  sound,  as  though  stifling  an  in- 
cipient laugh. 

"Nuthin'  ter  worry  'bout;  he's  a  lyin*  over  thar 
in  the  corner  with  Jack  Gold  a  guardin'  of  him.  I 
reckon  the  cuss  likes  prayin'  better  ner  nghtin'  any 
day  o'  ther  week." 

"All  right,  then;  we'll  give  Jack  Gold  some- 
thing more  valuable  to  attend  to."  I  dropped  my 
voice  to  a  whisper.  "  Noreen." 

"  Yes." 

"  It  will  give  us  an  extra  nghtin'  man  if  you 
will  keep  an  eye  on  Nichols,  and  we'll  need  them  all. 
You  are  willing  to  help*?  " 

"  Of  course;  I  thought  I  could  load  guns,  but — " 

"  I  would  rather  have  you  there,"  I  interrupted 
earnestly,  "  where  I  can  feel  reasonably  sure  you  will 
be  safe  from  stray  bullets.  I  shall  be  less  a  coward 
if  I  believe  you  out  of  danger." 

"  A  coward  —  you !    Yes,  of  course,  I  will  go." 

I  stepped  across  the  platform,  holding  her  arm. 

"This  you,  Gold?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"The  lady  will  watch  the  prisoner;  you  better 
join  the  others  at  the  door." 


The  Trap  Closes  341 

He  moved  off,  evidently  glad  enough  to  be  relieved, 
and  I  stood  erect  where  I  could  gaze  out  through  the 
near-by  window  into  the  moonlight  night  without. 
I  had  a  moment  in  which  to  think,  to  gather  my 
scattered  wits  together,  to  face  the  situation.  Be- 
hind me  the  tramp  of  approaching  horsemen  sounded 
along  the  pike,  the  gruff  tone  of  an  occasional  voice, 
the  clang  of  accoutrements.  Then  this  noise  ceased, 
as  the  head  of  the  cavalry  column  came  up  to  where 
Cowan  and  his  men  waited.  I  could  barely  make 
out  the  murmur  of  voices  in  explanation,  muffled  by 
the  sound  of  approaching  wheels,  signifying  the 
slower  advance  of  the  guarded  wagons.  I  heard  no 
orders  given,  yet  the  moonlight  revealed  more  numer- 
ous figures  in  the  thin  line  stretching  across  the  open 
space. 

"  Thar's  sojers  out  thar  now,  sir,"  whispered  the 
man  next  the  window,  fingering  his  gun  nervously, 
"  a  slew  of  'em.  Do  yer  know  how  many  they  got*?  " 

"  Only  to  guess  at  it:  a  couple  of  hundred  alto- 
gether I  should  say  —  enough  to  make  it  interest- 
ing" 

I  leaned  forward,  attracted  by  the  sight  of  two 
figures  standing  together  in  the  full  gleam  of  the 
moon  —  Cowan  and  Raymond.  So  they  were  to 
command  the  rear  attack,  while  Fox  and  the  infantry- 
man remained  out  in  front. 


342  The  Red  Mist 


"Have  you  counted  the  fellows  out  there*?"  I 
asked. 

"'Bout  fifty  near  as  I  kin  make  out;  they're 
movin'  'round  some,  an'  the  light  is  damned  bad." 

"  Then  the  main  body  is  still  in  front,  and  that 
is  where  the  fight  will  likely  begin.  Pass  the  word 
no  firing  until  you  get  the  order." 

I  stepped  back,  whispering  a  word  to  Noreen  as 
I  passed,  and  took  place  beside  the  pulpit,  where  I 
could  see  and  hear  something  of  what  was  about  to 
transpire. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

WE  DRIVE  THEM 

T  WAS  silent  enough  within  —  not  a 
movement,  not  a  sound.  I  could  per- 
ceive dimly  the  motionless  figures  clus- 
tered about  the  windows  in  breathless 
expectancy,  but  all  was  ready,  and  not  even  a  whis- 
pered order  was  being  exchanged.  Outside  there  was 
scarcely  any  more  noise  audible  —  the  occasional 
pawing  of  a  horse,  a  distant  thud  of  feet  where  some 
infantrymen  were  being  hurried  into  position,  and 
now  and  then  an  indistinct  voice.  The  caution  shown, 
the  force  displayed  about  the  church,  surprised  me. 
Surely  no  such  effort  would  be  made  merely  because 
of  a  vague  suspicion  that  a  man  and  girl  might  be 
hidden  within.  The  leaders  all  knew  that  I  was  not 
likely  to  surrender  without  a  fight,  and  that  I  was 
armed,  yet  this  could  hardly  account  for  such  prep- 
aration. 

Could  it  be  they  really  had  a  faint  glimmer  of 
the  truth*?  that  they  realized  the  possibility  of  a  Con- 
federate raiding  party  in  the  neighborhood4?  They 
had  shot  Harwood's  picket,  and  knew  him  to  be  a 
southern  cavalryman  from  the  uniform  he  wore. 

343 


344  The  Red  Mist 


This  might  account  for  the  display  of  force  with 
which  they  invested  the  church  before  demanding 
admission.  No  doubt  the  heavy  log  walls  looked 
formidable,  and  mysterious  in  the  moonlight.  But, 
if  they  really  suspected  a  garrison  within,  why  should 
their  line  be  thus  extended,  within  easy  musket  shot 
of  the  windows?  The  conclusion  I  arrived  at  was, 
that  Fox  made  this  open  display  of  force  in  the  hope 
of  avoiding  bloodshed.  He  desired  to  capture  in- 
stead of  kill,  and  wished  above  all  else  to  protect 
Noreen  from  danger.  If  we  were  alone  within  the 
church,  escape  was  clearly  impossible,  and  the  prob- 
ability strong  that  no  resistance  would  be  attempted. 

The  silence,  the  long  wait,  got  upon  my  nerves. 
I  could  see  little,  and  the  few  sounds  reaching  my 
ears  conveyed  no  information  of  value.  What  were 
those  fellows  doing?  What  could  cause  their  de- 
lay? The  soldier  behind  me  was  humming  softly; 
a  foot  scraped  on  the  floor  to  the  right;  I  caught  the 
soft  swish  of  Noreen's  skirt  as  she  changed  position ; 
the  moonbeams  glimmered  on  a  lifted  rifle-barrel; 
there  was  all  about  a  suppressed  sound  of  breathing. 
Good  Lord !  would  they  never  move !  What  could 
they  possibly  be  doing  out  there? 

A  half  dozen  blows  rang  sharp  on  the  wood  of  the 
outer  door.  Not  a  sound  answered  from  within, 
although  I  could  feel  the  men  straighten  up,  and  sense 


We  Drive  Them  345 

the  sharp  intake  of  breath.  Again  the  blows  crashed, 
as  if  struck  by  the  butt  of  a  musket. 

"  Open  up  in  there !  "  roared  a  voice,  so  muffled  as 
to  have  no  familiar  sound,  "  or  we'll  break  down  the 
door.  Come,  Mister  Spy;  we've  got  you  trapped." 

"  Sergeant  Wyatt,  the  lieutenant  wants  yer,"  the 
whispered  words  swept  down  the  line  of  waiting 
men,  and  I  hurried  forward.  Harwood  was  in  the 
dark  vestibule  close  beside  the  big  door. 

"  That  you,  Wyatt?  "  he  asked  softly,  uncertain 
as  to  my  identity.  "  They  are  after  you,  and  have 
no  idea  anyone  else  is  here.  You  answer,  and  warn 
them  what  they're  up  against.  I  don't  mind  a  fight, 
but  am  hardly  ready  to  commit  murder." 

"  Do  you  hear  me  in  there,  Wyatt'?  "  the  gruff 
voice  without  called.  "This  is  your  last  chance; 
come,  don't  be  a  fool.  We  know  you  are  there,  and 
there  couldn't  a  rat  get  out,  and  not  be  seen." 

"  Who  are  you*?  "  I  asked.  "  I  want  to  know  who 
I  am  dealing  with  first." 

"I  am  Major  Moran,  Twenty-first  Ohio  In- 
fantry." 

"Is  Captain  Fox  there?" 

"  Yes  —  here  Fox;  the  fellow  wants  to  talk  with 
you." 

There  was  a  sound  of  movement  without,  the  mur- 
mur of  a  word  or  two  spoken  in  subdued  tones ;  then 


346  The  Red  Mist 

Fox's  voice  raised  to  carry  through  the  intervening 
wood. 

"  Sorry  this  happens  to  be  my  job,  Wyatt,"  he 
said.  "  I  am  not  in  command,  and  therefore  can 
offer  no  conditions  of  surrender.  But  for  Miss  Har- 
wood's  sake  I  hope  you  will  not  attempt  to  fight; 
we've  got  a  total  force  out  here  of  over  two  hundred 
men." 

"  So  I  see,"  I  answered  coolly,  "  including  Cowan, 
and  my  old  friend  the  lieutenant.  Quite  a  compli- 
ment to  send  half  a  regiment  after  one  man." 

"  Our  having  such  a  force  is  largely  accident,"  he 
responded  somewhat  stiffly.  "  But  that  is  neither 
here  nor  there;  your  escape  is  impossible." 

"  I  am  not  considering  escape,"  and  I  spoke  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  clearly.  "  This  is  going  to  be  a 
fight,  Captain  Fox  —  a  real  fight," 

"  A  fight !     What,  you  alone*?  " 

"  Oh,  no;  there  are  men  enough  in  this  church  to 
make  it  quite  interesting.  That  is  why  I  warn  you 
—  we  are  soldiers,  not  murderers." 

"  What !    You  think  that  bluff  will  work?  " 

"  Captain  Fox,"  broke  in  Harwood  bluntly,  his 
voice  nervously  sharp.  "  I  command  Troop  *  C,' 
Third  Kentucky  Cavalry.  This  is  no  bluff,  sir.  I 
give  you  fifteen  minutes  to  withdraw  your  men;  at 
the  expiration  of  that  time  we  open  fire." 


We  Drive  Them  347 

The  surprise,  the  shock,  of  this  unexpected  devel- 
opment and  threat  was  plainly  evident.  I  heard 
Fox  step  back  from  the  door,  and  speak  earnestly 
to  some  one;  Moran  swore  savagely. 

"  What  force  have  you?  "  he  roared,  the  insane 
question  causing  Harwood  to  laugh  outright. 

"  Come,  and  find  out,"  he  answered  mockingly. 
"  It  is  no  trouble  to  show  goods.  Better  go  back  to 
the  other  end  now,  Sergeant,"  he  added  in  lower 
voice,  and  gripped  my  hand.  "  The  ball  is  about  to 
open.  Where  is  my  lady  cousin"?  " 

"  I  put  her  on  guard  over  the  prisoner.  She  will 
be  out  of  range  there,  and  have  something  to  do." 

"  And  gives  you  another  fighting  man  —  I  see. 
Queer  duck,  that  preacher  —  a  bit  of  a  knave  to  my 
notion,  and  one  of  the  finest  liars  I  have  ever  heard; 
he'll  bear  watching.  Ah!  our  friend  the  major  has 
come  to  his  senses  —  look  yonder !  They  are  mov- 
ing back  out  of  range." 

"Ay!  and  concentrating  a  heavier  body  of  men 
this  way." 

"Of  course;  the  first  assault  will  be  from  the 
front.  Tell  Wharton  to  spare  me  two  or  three  more 
men,  and  send  a  couple  from  your  end.  They  may 
make  a  rush  from  all  directions,  but  the  real  fight 
will  be  here ;  they  are  going  to  try  us  out,  that  is  cer- 
tain." 


348  The  Red  Mist 


"  You  can  trust  Fox  for  that;  he  is  a  fighting  man, 
whatever  may  be  the  inclination  of  the  major  — 
and  Cowan  is  a  wolf.  Listen !  that  is  his  voice  now." 

I  walked  back  to  my  station,  speaking  to  both 
Wharton  and  O'Hare  as  I  passed.  The  men  we  de- 
tached hurried  to  the  front,  and  I  took  the  vacant 
place  of  one  of  them  at  the  open  window,  back  of 
the  pulpit.  The  line  of  men  threatening  this  end  of 
the  building  had  been  drawn  aside,  out  of  direct 
rifle  range,  and  seemed  to  be  grouped  opposite  each 
corner,  and  were  so  closely  bunched  together  as  to 
make  any  estimate  of  their  numbers  impossible. 
They  were  only  shapeless  shadows,  with  moonlight 
gleaming  from  their  weapons;  and  an  occasional 
voice  breaking  the  ominous  silence.  What  their  pur- 
pose might  be  in  assuming  such  formation  could  not 
be  determined;  were  they  merely  guarding  against 
an  effort  on  our  part  to  break  away"?  or  did  they 
contemplate  an  assault  in  conjunction  with  the 
larger  force  at  the  front  of  the  church"?  No  fur- 
ther movement,  or  word,  gave  me  any  clue,  but  the 
manifest  lack  of  ordinary  military  formation  caused 
me  to  suspect  that  these  fellows  were  Cowan's  guer- 
rillas, and  that  the  reinforcement  of  cavalrymen  had 
been  sent  elsewhere.  Once  a  man  passed  between 
the  two  bodies,  bending  low  as  he  ran. 

There   remained  nothing  to  do  but  wait  their 


We  Drive  Them  349 

action,  ready  for  whatever  might  occur.  I  passed 
along  the  wall  from  man  to  man,  assuring  myself 
each  was  at  his  station,  with  loaded  weapon,  and 
well  filled  cartridge  belt. 

"  The  fight  will  begin  in  front,"  I  whispered,  un- 
able to  distinguish  faces,  "  and  no  firing  here  until 
I  give  the  word." 

In  the  darker  corner  where  the  prisoner  sat  motion- 
less against  the  log  wall,  my  eyes  could  distinguish 
nothing. 

"  Noreen." 

"  Yes,"  and  she  stood  up.  "  Couldn't  you  see 
me?" 

"  Not  the  faintest  shadow.  Your  prisoner  is 
quiet?" 

"  He  hasn't  even  spoken,  and  as  his  hands  and  feet 
are  bound,  he  is  very  easily  guarded.  You  think  they 
will  attack?  " 

"Beyond  question;  they  are  getting  ready  now, 
and  I  can  only  remain  here  a  moment.  I  —  I  wanted 
to  thank  you  for  the  choice  you  made." 

"  You  mean  my  coming  with  you?  You  are  glad 
I  did?  " 

"  Yes,  very  glad,"  I  said  earnestly,  "  for  you  are 
just  as  safe  here,  and  —  and  I  would  rather  have 
you  near  me.  This  may  prove  a  desperate  struggle; 
we  are  terribly  outnumbered  —  and  — and,  well  you 


350  The  Red  Mist 

know  you  —  you  trusted  yourself  to  me  —  you  are 
under  my  protection." 

There  was  no  answer;  perhaps  I  had  said  too 
much.  I  stood  waiting,  other  words  burning  on  my 
tongue.  God,  I  loved  her  —  but  I  could  not  un- 
derstand; could  not  venture  to  break  the  mystery 
of  that  silence.  Suddenly  a  volley  roared  out,  star- 
tling in  the  stillness,  the  simultaneous  crash  of  fifty 
muskets,  the  speeding  bullets  thudding  into  wood. 
I  heard  one  cry  of  agony  —  a  shout  of  command  — 
the  sharp  bark  of  carbines  —  then  a  grim,  threaten- 
ing yelp  of  voices.  One  leap  brought  me  to  the 
window,  with  gun-barrel  thrust  forward  across  the 
sill.  The  two  black  shadows  were  disintegrating, 
breaking  up,  the  units  spreading  out  like  an  open- 
ing fan,  in  headlong  rush  toward  the  door  at  the 
south  corner.  There  was  no  firing,  no  flash  of  pow- 
der, just  that  wild  yelping,  as  though  a  pack  of 
wolves  smelt  blood,  and  that  reckless  dash  across  the 
moonlit  open.  I  saw  figures,  not  faces,  a  gleaming  of 
poised  weapons,  a  huddle  of  leaping  bodies. 

"  Fire !  "  I  roared,  my  voice  rising  above  the 
hideous  din.  "  Give  it  to  them !  "  and  pulled  trig- 
ger. 

I  have  no  clear  knowledge  of  what  followed  —  it 
was  all  so  quickly  over  with;  a  mere  mad  moment 
crowded  with  vague  glimpses,  vanishing  and  chang- 


We  Drive  Them  351 

ing  in  the  lurid  light  of  the  guns.  The  whole  interior 
of  the  church  blazed  and  echoed,  the  smoke  choking 
us  with  its  fumes,  the  noise  stunning  our  ears.  I 
heard  the  chug  of  bullets  flattening  against  the  logs, 
smothered  oaths,  the  crash  of  an  overturned  bench, 
a  scream  as  shrill  as  a  woman's  that  made  my  heart 
leap,  and  Har wood's  voice  calling  out  the  same  word 
again  and  again.  But  although  I  heard  all  this,  I 
hardly  knew  it,  my  whole  thought  rivetted  on  those 
black  figures  in  front  of  me  —  those  reckless  devils 
we  had  to  kill,  or  drive  back.  And  we  did  it !  From 
every  window,  from  every  hastily  smashed  pane  be- 
side the  door,  we  poured  our  fire  —  the  carbines  spit- 
ting into  the  dark,  their  sharp  barking  incessant. 
Barrels  grew  hot,  the  smoke  drove  back  choking  into 
our  faces,  but  we  pulled  triggers,  aiming  as  best  we 
could  in  the  moon-gleam,  now  changed  to  a  red 
mist.  They  stopped;  hung  for  a  moment  motion- 
less, the  ground  dotted  with  the  dead;  then  tried 
again.  There  was  a  roar  of  musketry,  the  crack  of 
rifles ;  bullets  chugged  into  the  logs,  and  came  crash- 
ing through  the  windows.  Glass  showered  upon  us, 
and  the  man  next  me  went  over  like  a  log;  someone 
struck  me  across  the  face  with  a  bloody  hand,  and 
a  shot  splintered  the  stock  of  my  gun,  numbing  my 
arm  to  the  shoulder.  I  gripped  another  weapon  out 
of  the  stiffening  fingers  of  the  man  on  the  floor, 


352  The  Red  Mist 

firing  again  blindly  into  the  smoke  cloud.  For  an  in- 
stant I  could  see  nothing  but  that  white  vapor  tinged 
with  red  and  yellow  flame;  then  some  breath  of  air 
swept  it  aside,  and  the  attackers  were  drifting  back, 
running  and  stumbling.  There  were  motionless 
bodies  on  the  ground  —  a  half  dozen  in  a  heap  be- 
fore the  door;  with  here  and  there  a  figure  crawling 
in  painful  effort  at  escape. 

"Stop  firing!"  I  cried,  "they've  had  enough. 
Pass  the  word  to  those  men  at  the  door." 

The  fight  at  the  front  held  longer,  yet  it  was 
scarcely  five  minutes  when  the  last  gun  cracked,  and 
a  strange  silence  took  the  place  of  that  hideous  up- 
roar. For  an  instant  not  even  a  cry  from  the 
wounded  broke  the  stillness,  the  men  leaning  out  of 
the  windows  watching  the  disorganized  retreat. 
Then  someone  gave  an  exultant  yell,  and  voice  after 
voice  caught  it  up,  the  old  church  echoing  to  the 
wild  battle-cry  of  the  South. 

"Steady  men,  steady!  "  shouted  Harwood  from 
the  door  of  the  vestibule,  his  voice  cleaving  the  din 
like  the  blade  of  a  knife.  "This  is  only  the  first 
act.  Load!" 


CHAPTER  XXX 

A   WAY  OF   ESCAPE 

HE  light  of  the  moon  streamed  in  through 
the  south  windows  in  a  flood  of  silence, 
revealing  the  overturned  benches,  the 
moving  figures  along  the  walls,  the 
smoke  cloud  drifting  upward  to  the  rafters.  The 
lieutenant,  after  a  brief  word  to  his  men  in  the 
vestibule,  picked  his  way  down  the  narrow  aisle, 
stopping  an  instant  to  question  Wharton  and 
O'Hare.  With  one  quick  glance  through  the 
window,  I  stepped  down  from  the  pulpit  platform  to 
meet  him.  He  was  bare-headed  and  coatless,  and 
even  in  that  dim  light  I  could  perceive  a  dark  stain, 
like  oozing  blood,  on  the  front  of  his  shirt. 
"  You  are  wounded?  "  I  exclaimed. 
"  Nothing  to  worry  over,"  he  replied  easily,  his 
eyes  laughing,  "  a  mere  touch  in  the  shoulder,  which, 
however,  has  put  my  left  arm  out  of  commission. 
Ah !  fair  cousin !  "  and  he  held  up  his  hand  in  sud- 
den greeting.  "  We  who  are  about  to  die,  salute 
you." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  "  she  pleaded.     "  Surely  the 
victory  is  ours." 

353 


354  The  Red  Mist 

"  Ay !  we  win  the  first  round,  but  it  has  cost 
heavily.  I  doubt  if  we  have  such  luck  again.  Yet 
forgive  me;  those  were  careless  words,  but  the  Har- 
wood  breed  are  given  to  intemperate  speech."  He 
turned  to  me.  "  What  loss  have  you,  Wyatt*?  " 

"  Two  wounded,  and  one  killed,"  I  answered  so- 
berly. "  We  had  Cowan's  guerrillas  to  meet  out 
there." 

"Yes,  I  know;  the  infantrymen  stormed  the 
front,  and  the  troopers  peppered  the  side  windows. 
They  meant  to  keep  us  all  busy,  and  try  out  our 
strength  —  O'Hare  got  the  least  of  it,  and  never 
lost  a  man;  Wharton  has  three  down,  while  they  got 
five  of  my  lads.  The  front  doors  are  fairly  riddled; 
a  good  blow  with  the  butt  of  a  tree  will  send  them 
crashing  in." 

"  You  believe  they  will  attack  again !  " 

"  Lord  —  yes !  They  know  now  what  they  are 
up  against.  That  man  Fox  is  a  soldier;  he  and  a 
dozen  others  were  at  the  door.  They'll  consolidate 
next  time,  trust  to  the  weight  of  numbers,  and  break 
through.  They  respect  us  now,  but  we  haven't 
licked  the  fight  out  of  them  by  a  long  chalk.  I'm 
going  to  take  three  of  your  men." 

"  That  leaves  only  one  to  a  window." 

"  You  will  have  to  get  along.  If  the  attack  de- 
velops at  your  end  I'll  reinforce  you;  but  it  will  not 


A  Way  of  Escape  355 

—  the  whole  kit  and  caboodle  are  coming  straight 
for  those  doors  —  Fox  knows  their  condition.  Well, 
that's  enough ;  there  is  too  much  to  be  done  to  stand 
here  talking  —  send  me  the  men  at  once." 

He  whispered  a  word  to  her,  some  good-natured 
pleasantry,  I  thought,  as  he  bowed  over  her  hand 
as  though  they  parted  in  a  gay  parlor;  then  turned 
laughing  away,  and  picked  his  passage  down  the 
aisle,  a  slender,  debonair  figure,  whistling  a  gay  camp 
tune.  I  stared  after  him,  scarcely  able  to  compre- 
hend such  gay-spirited  recklessness,  when  he  stopped 
suddenly,  and  faced  about. 

"  Do  what  you  can  for  your  wounded,  Wyatt," 
he  called  back,  his  voice  instantly  serious,  "  and 
keep  my  fair  cousin  out  of  the  ruck." 

Several  figures  fell  in  behind  him  as  he  went 
forward  —  the  men  he  had  asked  for  from  Wharton 
and  O'Hare  —  all  disappearing  within  the  black- 
ness of  the  vestibule.  Leaving  one  man  alone 
posted  at  each  opening,  I  had  the  others  of  my 
small  company  bear  the  two  wounded  men  to  the 
further  corner,  making  them  as  comfortable  as  pos- 
sible. The  dead  man  was  laid  out  on  one  of  the 
benches,  and  then  the  three  selected  for  that  duty 
were  sent  to  join  the  lieutenant.  This  depletion  of 
force  left  me  a  window  to  defend  alone  against  the 
second  attack,  the  opening  to  the  left  of  the  pulpit, 


356  The  Red  Mist 


next  to  the  corner  in  which  lay  the  wounded  men, 
and  the  prisoner.  As  I  crossed  the  platform,  and 
took  my  place,  Noreen  arose  from  beside  one  of  the 
bodies,  and  her  hands  grasped  my  arm. 

"  The  soldier  who  was  shot  in  the  chest  has  just 
died,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling.  "  He  —  he 
tried  to  tell  me  something,  but  —  but  it  was  too 
late." 

"  And  the  other  man?  " 

"  His  hurt  is  not  so  serious.  I  tore  my  skirt  and 
bound  it  up,  but  there  was  no  water.  I  —  I  wish 
he  wouldn't  groan  so." 

Her  face,  white  in  the  moonlight,  was  uplifted; 
I  even  thought  I  could  see  the  glint  of  tears  in  the 
eyes.  Suddenly  a  great  wave  of  sympathy,  of  re- 
gret, seemed  to  sweep  over  me,  and  I  leaned  the 
carbine  against  the  wall,  and  clasped  both  her  hands 
in  mine. 

"  We  grow  accustomed  to  groans  in  war,"  I  said 
swiftly,  "  but  what  unmans  me  is  your  being  here 
exposed  to  all  this  danger." 

"Oh,  no  one  will  hurt  me;  I  am  not  afraid  for 
myself  —  truly  I  am  not.  Captain  Fox  would  never 
permit  them  to  harm  me." 

"  True ;  if  Fox  comes  through  alive ;  but  Cowan 
and  Raymond  are  both  here  also,  and  I  know  not 
which  I  distrust  the  more.  I  did  wrong  to  permit 


A   Way  of  Escape  357 

your  ever  coming  with  me;  to  risk  your  life  in  so 
desperate  a  game." 

"  Do  not  say  that,  Tom,"  her  voice  eager  and 
earnest.  "  I  am  no  worse  off  here  than  I  would  be 
if  you  had  left  me  in  Lewisburg.  It  was  my  choice, 
and  even  now  I  would  rather  be  here  with  you. 
Why,"  she  paused,  drawing  in  a  quick  breath,  "  if 
—  if  I  had  remained  behind  I  might  be  helplessly  in 
the  grip  of  Anse  Cowan !  Have  —  have  you  for- 
gotten that?  " 

"  No,  I  had  not  forgotten ;  but  there  is  danger 
enough  here  —  more  than  you  realize.  You  have 
never  seen  men  mad  with  battle  lust,  crazed  from 
victory.  They  see  through  a  red  mist,  and  forget 
sex.  They  are  coming  in  here  presently,  firing  and 
killing,  smashing  their  way  through  from  wall  to 
wall.  Your  cousin  is  not  the  kind  to  ever  raise  a 
white  flag  —  he'll  go  down  fighting,  and  his  men 
beside  him.  I've  been  thinking  of  it  all,  my  girl, 
and  there  is  one  thing  I  want  you  to  do  now,  before 
the  final  assault  comes." 

"  What?  " 

"  Let  me  send  you  out  under  flag  of  truce  to  the 
protection  of  Captain  Fox.  He'll  guard  you  as  he 
would  his  own  daughter." 

"  And  —  and  leave  you  men  in  here  to  die?  " 

"  To  take  our  chances,  of  course;  that  is  a  part  of 


358  The  Red  Mist 

the  trade.  Your  remaining  with  us  cannot  change 
the  result,  whatever  it  may  prove  to  be  —  and,  with 
me,  it  is  merely  a  choice  between  bullet  and  rope." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  but  there  was 
no  sound  of  sobbing.  I  waited,  ashamed  of  my  in- 
considerate words,  yet  when  her  eyes  were  again 
lifted  they  were  tearless. 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  "  and  you  feel  that  it  will  be 
best  for  you  —  for  you,  if  I  go?  " 

"  Yes,  Noreen,"  earnestly.  "  The  very  knowl- 
edge that  you  are  here  saps  my  courage.  Surely 
you  can  understand  why  this  should  be  so,  for  the 
more  desperate  our  defense  the  more  ruthless  our 
enemies  will  prove  in  the  hour  of  victory.  The 
very  knowledge  of  what  the  result  may  be  would 
almost  lead  me  to  surrender,  and,  to  a  less  degree, 
your  presence  here  must  affect  your  cousin." 

"  The  lieutenant!    Why  to  a  less  degree?  " 

"  Because,"  I  broke  forth  swiftly,  "  you  are  less 
to  him.  This  is  your  first  meeting;  there  is  no  tie 
between  you,  except  a  distant  relationship  just  dis- 
covered. His  solicitude  is  merely  the  protection  of 
a  woman,  while  I  cannot  forget  that  you  are  my 
wife." 

"A  temporary  matter,  a  mere  form.  So  you 
wish  to  forget?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  that,  and  have  never  thought  it." 


A  Way  of  Escape  359 

"  Yet  you  regret?  " 

"  Only  because  of  the  danger  in  which  you  have 
been  plunged  —  here  comes  Harwood  now." 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  slender  erectness  of 
the  man's  figure  even  in  that  dim  light,  nor  the 
cheerful  sound  of  his  voice,  as  he  paused,  glancing 
out  through  the  side  windows,  and  giving  laughing 
greeting  to  the  soldiers. 

"  Ah !  my  bold  gunner  of  Staunton,"  he  exclaimed 
as  he  stepped  onto  the  pulpit  platform,  "  and  is 
everything  still  quiet  here1?  Now  you  know  what 
it  means  when  they  sing  if  you  want  a  good  time 
jine  the  cavalry.  Let  me  get  a  glimpse  without." 

He  stood  gazing  forth  into  the  moonlight,  and 
our  eyes  took  in  the  same  scene.  Except  for  the  dead 
bodies  lying  in  the  open,  there  was  little  to  see, 
although  a  few  figures,  apparently  of  men,  moved 
back  and  forth  at  a  distance  well  beyond  range. 

"As  I  thought,  Wyatt,"  said  the  lieutenant, 
finally  turning  about.  "  They  are  massing  their 
forces  again  at  the  front.  My  lady  you  will  witness 
some  real  war  presently." 

"  They  may  delay  the  next  attack  till  daylight." 

"  No  such  luck;  those  fellows  are  soldiers,  not 
Indians,  and  are  anxious  to  get  through  with  the 
job." 

"  I  have  been  urging  your  cousin  to  let  us  send 


860  The  Red  Mist 

her  out  under  flag  of  truce,"  I  said  quietly,  "  to  the 
protection  of  Captain  Fox." 

"  That  is  really  what  I  came  back  here  for,"  he 
admitted,  "  and  we  haven't  any  time  to  spare.  What 
say  you,  fair  cousin*?  " 

She  stood  between  us,  and  before  she  answered  her 
eyes  sought  both  our  faces. 

"  Is  this  asked  of  me  on  your  account,  gentlemen, 
or  my  own?  " 

"  Your  own,  of  course,"  he  answered  before  I 
could  speak. 

"  Then  my  choice  is  to  stay."  Suddenly  I  felt 
her  hand  on  mine.  "  You  will  not  refuse  me  this 
privilege,  Tom*?  " 

"  No,"  reluctantly;  yet  at  the  same  time  strangely 
delighted  at  the  prompt  decision,  "  but  I  thought  the 
other  best." 

Harwood  laughed  lightly. 

"  Again  the  blood,"  he  said  gaily.  "  Bah !  so 
far  as  I  was  concerned  the  asking  was  mere  form; 
the  answer  was  already  in  the  lady's  eyes.  But 
I  must  go  back  to  my  lambs." 

"  You  have  secured  the  door1?  " 

"The  best  we  can;  braced  it  with  benches  solid 
to  the  wall.  The  wood  will  not  resist  long,  but 
'twill  make  an  ugly  abatis  for  the  Yanks  to  clamber 
in  over." 


A  Way  of  Escape  361 

He  lifted  his  cap  gallantly,  and  turned  away, 
humming  some  gay  tune  softly  as  he  felt  his  way 
along  the  moonlit  aisle.  His  very  light-heartedness 
left  me  sober  and  depressed.  She  must  have  realized 
all  this,  for  her  handclasp  tightened. 

"  You  are  sorry?    You  wished  me  to  go?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,  Noreen ;  I  have  every  confidence 
in  Fox  —  who  is  making  that  noise?  is  it  the 
preacher?  " 

He  was  propped  up  against  the  wall,  not  far 
from  us,  and  I  bent  over,  noting  how  he  was  bound. 
Instantly  I  cut  the  cords,  and  began  rubbing  the 
man's  wrists  to  restore  circulation. 

"  I  never  noticed  you  were  strung  up  like  that, 
Nichols,"  I  said  earnestly.  "  Who  did  the  job?  " 

"  The  sergeant,"  he  answered,  choking.  "  I  tried 
ter  speak  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  an'  the  lady  yere,  but 
I  couldn't  git  the  gag  out  'er  my  mouth.  Bend 
down  a  bit  lower;  I  don't  want  none  o'  them  sojers 
ter  hear." 

"All  right  — what  is  it?" 

"  Yer  ol'  Jedge  Wyatt's  boy,  ain't  yer?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  An'  she's  the  darter  o'  Major  Harwood?  " 

"  This  is  Noreen  Harwood." 

"  I  thought  so,  but  thar  ain't  hardly  light  'nough 
fer  me  ter  be  sure.  I  married  yer  over  cross  ther 


362  The  Red  Mist 


mountings  —  an'  is  Anse  Cowan  along  with  them 
Yanks  out  thar?  " 

"  Yes,  and  all  the  gang,  excepting  old  Ned,  who 
was  shot  last  night." 

"You  shot  him'?" 

"Well,  it  was  my  pistol;  we  were  fighting  to- 
gether." Suddenly  a  thought  swept  through  my 
mind.  "  See  here,  Nichols :  you  are  in  as  bad  shape 
as  we  are.  Anse  has  treated  you  like  a  dog,  and 
he  will  never  forgive  you  for  that  marriage,  even 
if  it  was  performed  to  save  your  life  —  " 

"  It  wasn't,"  he  chuckled.  "  I  wa'n't  afeerd  yer 
would  shoot.  I  wus  thet  mad  at  Anse  I  didn't  care; 
but  I  reckon  he'll  'bout  skin  me  alive  if  ever  he 
kitches  me  yere." 

"  Do  you  know  of  any  way  out*?  " 

He  glanced  about  cautiously,  to  assure  himself 
that  no  soldier  was  within  earshot. 

"  The  baptistry." 

"The  what'?" 

"  The  baptistry  under  the  pulpit;  this  is  a  Baptist 
church,  and  ther  is  an  opening  in  the  floor  just  back 
of  where  you  are.  Feel  a  little  to  the  left  —  yes, 
about  thar  —  don't  you  touch  an  iron  ring*?  What*? 
well  thar's  one  thar,  an'  it  lifts  two  puncheon  slabs 
spiked  tergether." 

"  Yes,  but  what  is  below  —  just  a  tank*?  " 


A  Way  of  Escape  363 

His  voice  trembled  with  eager  excitement,  and 
he  gripped  me  tightly. 

"  I  ain't  afeerd  ter  tell  you,  cause  I  knew  both 
yer  daddies,  an'  —  an'  I  reckon  yer'll  take  me  'long 
with  yer,  won't  you?  Yer  won't  leave  me  yere 
fer  ter  face  that  Anse  Cowan?  Ye' 11  promise  me 
that?  " 

"  Of  course,  Nichols,"  I  said  soothingly,  the  man's 
cowardice  almost  disgusting,  "  if  you  show  us  a 
way  of  escape  we'll  go  together  if  the  chance  comes 
—  what  is  it?  speak  quick." 

"I  —  I  know  the  ol'  trail  over  the  mountings 
down  ter  Covington;  I  reckon  as  how  you  couldn't 
never  git  thar  without  me.  I  —  I  thought  it  all  out 
while  I  was  lyin'  yere  trussed  up  like  a  turkey,  but 
they  never  giv'  me  no  show  fer  ter  got  loose.  Now 
if  you  folks  will  cut  this  yere  rope  offen  my  legs 
I'll  show  yer  how  fer  ter  git  out  —  an'  nobody'll 
never  know  nuthin'  'bout  it." 

"  Explain  first,"  I  said  shortly.  "  As  far  as  trust 
goes  I  have  confidence  in  you,  Nichols,  just  so  far 
as  I  can  see  you.  What  is  below?" 

"  Five  steps  leadin'  down  inter  a  wood  tank," 
he  explained  slowly,  realizing  that  his  only  hope  of 
release  lay  in  a  full  description.  "It's  empty  now, 
an'  dry  as  a  board;  ain't  been  a  baptism  yere  in  six 
months.  The  place  whar'  the  water  runs  out  is  at  the 


364  The  Red  Mist 


south  side,  right  down  'gainst  the  bottom ;  ther  cover 
ter  the  opening  is  screwed  tight  by  a  wheel.  OP 
Ned  Cowan  made  ther  contraption,  an'  yer  kin  stand 
on  ther  upper  step  an'  open  an'  shut  the  thing,  an' 
never  git  yer  feet  wet." 

"  The  entire  cover  comes  off?  " 

"  Sure,  if  yer  unscrew  it  fer  enough." 

"  And  how  big  is  the  opening*?  " 

"  Wai,  I  don't  jist  know,  but  I've  crawled  through 
thar  fixing  a  leak,  an'  if  I  did  it  onct,  I  reckon  I 
kin  again.  'Taint  mor'n  'bout  six  feet  beyond  ther 
wall  till  it  hits  the  edge  o'  ther  ravine.  Thet's  why 
the  Yanks  didn't  make  no  attack  on  thet  side  o' 
ther  church  —  thar  ain't  no  room." 

The  whole  situation  lay  clear  before  me.  I  had 
no  thought  of  utilizing  this  unexpected  opportunity 
myself,  for  I  meant  to  stay  with  the  others,  and 
perform  my  part  of  the  fighting  to  the  end.  But 
here  was  protection,  and  possible  escape,  for  Noreen. 
Yet  could  the  preacher  be  trusted1?  Would  he  play 
fair  if  I  released  him,  and  left  them  alone  together1? 
Did  not  his  interests  also  lie  in  getting  away  safely? 
What  act  of  treachery  could  he  commit1?  and,  be- 
sides the  girl  was  armed. 

"How  do  you  light  this  church?" 

"  Candles  mostly,"  surprised  at  the  question,  "  yer 
ain't  goin'  fer  ter  light  up,  are  yer?  " 


A  Way  of  Escape  865 

"Not  here  —  no;  but  below;  where  is  there 
one?" 

"  I  reckon  on  thet  thar  shelf  in  the  pulpit  yer'll 
find  a  dozen  er  so." 

"  Bring  a  couple  here,  Noreen." 

She  slipped  across  silently,  and  came  back  with 
two  in  her  hand. 

"  You  are  going  to  try  to  get  away?  "  she  whis- 
pered cautiously. 

"  No,  not  now.  An  opportunity  may  come  later. 
If  it  was  possible  to  slip  all  these  men  out  I  would 
gladly  do  so  —  but  it  is  already  too  late  for  any 
such  attempt.  But  there  is  a  chance  for  you,  and 
it  is  even  barely  possible  that,  when  all  hope  of  de- 
fense is  over,  I  may  find  some  way  of  joining  you." 

"You  —  you  promise  that?"  she  asked.  "If 
I  consent  to  go,  you  —  you  will  come  later  if  you 
can?" 

"  Yes;  I  will  pledge  myself  to  accept  every  chance, 
when  I  can  do  no  more  fighting.  I'll  come  to  you, 
if  I  live.  Now,  Nichols,  listen  —  I  am  going  to  set 
you  free,  and  permit  you  to  slip  down  through  that 
trap  door  with  this  lady.  She  is  armed,  and  she 
knows  how  to  shoot.  Attempt  one  treacherous  trick 
and  you  pay  the  penalty." 

"  I  ain't  thet  kind,"  he  whined. 

"  Oh,  yes  you  are ;  but  it  will  never  pay  this  time. 


366  The  Red  Mist 

Don't  take  your  eyes  off  him,  Noreen;  the  moment 
that  trap  door  closes  light  the  candle,  and  keep 
the  revolver  ready.  Make  him  unscrew  the  cap,  and 
leave  it  off  out  of  the  way.  Set  the  candle  down  in 
one  corner  as  far  back  as  possible.  You  better  go 
out  first." 

"I  —  I  am  not  to  wait  for  you?  "  bewildered. 

"  Not  in  there  —  no;  outside,  for  they  might  fire 
the  building.  Nichols,  where  is  the  best  place  for 
the  two  of  you  to  hide  so  I  could  find  you"?  " 

"  In  the  woods  to  the  west;  there  is  a  trail  half 
way  down  the  ravine  a  climbin'  up  —  an  ol'  hog 
trail." 

My  fingers  touched  his  throat,  and  I  bent  lower 
staring  straight  into  his  eyes. 

"  Now,  mark  well  what  I  say,  Nichols.  I  am 
going  to  release  you,  and  give  you  a  chance  to  get 
away.  But  you  stay,  with  the  woman  —  do  you 
hear!  Stay  with  her  until  you  both  reach  the  Con- 
federate lines  at  Covington.  If  I  ever  get  out  of 
here  alive,  and  learn  you  have  attempted  any  trick, 
I'll  run  you  down,  Nichols,  if  it  takes  ten  years. 
Now  I'll  cut  the  rope,  and  you  creep  over  to  where 
that  ring  is  in  the  floor,  and  wait  my  order." 

Evidently  his  limbs  were  numb  from  the  tight 
cord,  for  he  crept  the  few  feet  painfully,  and  then 
sat  up  rubbing  the  afflicted  parts  with  both  hands. 


A   Way  of  Escape  367 

I  swept  one  glance  out  through  the  window,  and 
then  about  the  dim  interior,  endeavoring  to  locate 
the  men  nearest  us.  Only  one  stood  close  enough 
to  observe  our  movements,  and  I  sent  him  with  a 
message  to  the  sergeant. 

"  Now,  Noreen,"  I  whispered  swiftly,  "  this  is  the 
best  time.  Take  these  papers ;  they  are  for  Jackson ; 
give  them  to  the  first  Confederate  officer  you  meet, 
and  have  them  forwarded  at  once.  Don't  trust 
Nichols  for  a  single  moment  out  of  range  of  your 
revolver." 

"  You  will  not  come?  " 

"Not  now;  you  would  not  wish  me  to  desert 
my  comrades  —  would  you"?  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  know !  I  do  not  know.  It  is  so 
hard  to  decide.  You  really  wish  me  to  go"?  It  will 
please  you*?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  will  come  if  —  if  you  can"?  I  am  to 
wait,  and  —  and  hope  for  you1?  " 

"  I  pledge  you  my  word,  dear  girl." 

She  clung  to  my  hands,  her  face  uplifted  in  the 
moonlight. 

"I  —  I  am  your  wife,"  she  said  softly,  "  and  I  — 
I  want  you  to  —  " 

Three  shots  rang  out  clear  and  distinct  without, 
and  a  voice  shouted  hoarsely. 


368  The  Red  Mist 


"  Stand  to  it,  lads !  "  cried  Harwood  from  the 
dark  vestibule.  "  The  Yanks  are  coming !  " 

I  swung  her  light  form  across  the  platform  to 
where  Nichols  crouched. 

"  Quick  now,  both  of  you !  Careful ;  don't 
fall,  Noreen !  Go  on,  man ;  I'll  close  the  trap  —  and 
God  help  you  if  you  don't  remember !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE    END   OF   DEFENSE 

HAD  no  time  for  thought  —  action 
called  me.  Yet  her  last  unfinished 
sentence  rang  in  my  memory.  Could 
it  be  that  she  cared  also1?  that  out  of 
this  strange  association  there  had  grown  an  awaken- 
ing interest?  Could  she  have  meant  that?  Was 
that  what  she  sought  to  say  in  those  final  words'? 
God,  I  would  have  given  much  to  know,  yet  the 
faith  that  it  was  so  flamed  up  in  my  heart  instantly, 
and  seemed  to  blot  all  else  out.  For  a  single  mo- 
ment I  stood  there  motionless,  my  feet  on  the  low- 
ered trap,  dimly  conscious  of  the  uproar  about  me, 
yet  scarcely  able  to  realize  the  imminence  of  the 
peril.  They  were  pouring  volleys  into  the  front 
door  —  the  roaring  of  discharge  ending  in  the  sound 
of  splintered  wood,  and  sharp  cries  of  pain.  Car- 
bines cracked  in  response,  and  Harwood's  voice 
sounded  continually  through  the  hideous  discord. 

"  Get  back,  men !  get  back !  ay,  beyond  the  parti- 
tion, you  fellows  in  front  there!  No,  don't  leave 
the  windows;  they'll  charge  presently,  and  there  is 
no  use  firing  those  carbines  now  —  the  range  is  too 

369 


370  The  Red  Mist 


long.  Load  again  —  load !  and  stand  ready. 
Wyatt!" 

"  Here,  sir." 

"  Any  work  for  you  there1?  " 

"  No;  only  a  half  dozen  Yanks  in  sight  from  this 
end." 

"  Bring  all  but  two  men,  and  come  here !  Wharton, 
O'Hare,  stand  ready  to  take  a  hand.  Ah !  there  the 
blue-bellies  come,  lads  —  now  give  them  the  lead ! 
fire !  damn  you  —  fire !  " 

The  little  squad  of  us  leaped  down  the  aisle,  and 
Wharton's  and  O'Hare's  men  clambered  over  the 
benches,  cursing  and  yelling.  Already  the  smoke 
of  the  carbines  filled  the  church,  and  we  could  see 
little  except  in  the  flash  of  the  gun-fire.  The  swirl 
of  bodies  hurled  me  to  the  right,  away  from  where 
Harwood  stood,  and  brought  me  in  front  of  the  op- 
posite door.  Through  this  opening,  and  the  narrow 
window  beyond,  I  got  a  glimpse  outside  —  at  a  black 
mass  of  men  sweeping  straight  toward  us,  their 
guns  gleaming  viciously,  their  voices  echoing  in  sav- 
age shout.  It  was  a  mere  glimpse,  an  infernal  vision, 
and,  almost  at  the  same  instant,  they  came  crashing 
against  the  shattered  door,  beating  it  down  with  their 
gun-stocks,  and  leaping  through  into  the  maze  of 
overturned  benches  littering  the  vestibule.  The  door 
fell  in  splinters,  the  frenzied  assailants  plunging 


headlong  among  the  debris,  yet  hurled  forward  by 
the  mad  impetus  of  those  behind.  The  discharge  of 
guns  lit  up  the  restricted  space  with  red  glare,  giving 
us  sight  of  faces,  of  brandished  weapons,  of  wiggling, 
advancing  forms.  It  was  a  glimpse  into  the  pit,  a 
scene  of  horror  never  to  be  effaced  from  memory. 
How  they  got  through  that  tangle  of  death  I  know 
not.  Into  their  very  faces  we  poured  our  fire  —  our 
own  men,  caught  within  the  narrow  space,  striking 
at  them  with  clubbed  guns  —  but  they  were  too 
many  to  be  held.  Over  the  dead  poured  the  torrent 
of  living,  firing,  cursing,  striking,  jamming  the  few 
gray-jackets  against  the  inner  wall,  and,  in  two  re- 
sistless streams,  hurling  themselves  against  both 
vestibule  doors. 

Wedged  in  the  portals  I  saw  all  this  so  clearly 
that  each  detail  stands  out  in  memory  —  the  in- 
furiated faces,  the  fallings  bodies,  the  disfiguring 
blood-stains,  the  savage  glint  of  steel.  Those  who 
came  first  were  not  soldiers  —  they  were  Cowan's 
men,  gaunt,  rough  fellows,  bearded  and  dirty,  their 
fierce  curses  sounding  above  the  uproar.  And  they 
fought  like  fiends,  driven  by  Cowan's  voice,  and 
pressed  remorselessly  forward  by  the  cavalrymen 
behind.  I  saw  him  once,  a  blood  spot  on  his  cheek, 
and  I  fired  over  the  heads  of  those  between  us,  but 
though  he  fell,  he  came  to  his  feet  again  and  was 


872  The  Red  Mist 


swept  to  one  side  by  the  rush  of  men.  I  saw  all 
this,  and  no  more;  it  was  like  a  flash  on  the  screen 
—  and  then  everything  became  an  indistinct  blur. 
They  were  upon  us,  jammed  in  the  narrow  door- 
ways, each  man  fighting  for  life.  I  used  gun  and 
revolver,  fist  and  stock;  I  knew  not  who  stood,  who 
fell;  in  the  red  mist  before  me  were  black  shapes, 
hateful  faces,  and  I  struck  to  kill.  Twice  I  lost 
foot  and  fell,  but  was  up  again,  fronting  them.  I 
stepped  on  dead  bodies,  slipped  in  pools  of  blood; 
falling  men  caused  me  to  stagger;  a  slug  of  lead 
tore  burning  through  my  shoulder;  a  glancing  knife 
blade  ripped  my  forearm.  I  had  no  time,  no  room, 
in  which  to  reload ;  my  hands  gripped  the  hot  carbine 
barrel,  and  I  swung  the  stock  like  a  flail. 

It  was  stifling  —  I  could  hardly  breathe;  the  room 
choked  with  smoke,  our  bodies  reeking  with  sweat. 
A  gripping  hand  ripped  my  shirt  open,  clutching  for 
the  throat,  and  I  jabbed  carbine  barrel  into  the 
bearded  face.  Yet  we  could  not  hold;  could  not 
stand  against  that  torrent  —  there  were  not  enough 
of  us.  Inch  by  inch  they  won  through  the  door; 
we  could  kill,  but  not  stop  them,  and  they  hurled 
us  back,  stumbling  over  the  dead,  clambering  across 
overturned  benches,  but  unable  to  stem  the  increas- 
ing tide.  We  were  all  together  now  —  Harwood, 
Wharton,  O'Hare  —  the  sole  handful  left,  and 


The  End  of  Defense  373 

we  made  a  fight  of  it,  the  best  we  could.  There  was 
a  moment's  pause,  the  merest  instant  in  which  to 
breathe,  and  my  eyes  met  Harwood's.  He  was  naked 
to  the  waist,  hatless,  blood  dripping  from  a  cut 
over  one  eye,  the  stock  of  his  carbine  shattered. 

"  Ah,  gunner  of  Staunton,"  he  called  out  cheerily, 
although  his  voice  cracked  with  dryness.  "  Didn't 
I  tell  you  if  you  wanted  a  good  time  to  jine  the 
cavalry." 

"  Forward,  men!  forward!  "  It  was  Fox's  voice, 
although  I  saw  nothing  of  him.  "  Once  more,  and 
it's  over  with  —  forward !  " 

"  Now,  lads,  meet  them !  "  burst  out  Harwood. 
"  About  me,  Third  Kentucky  —  here  they  come !  " 

They  drove  us  in  so  as  to  encircle  us,  yet  the 
jumble  of  benches  served  as  some  protection  to  our 
rear.  Perhaps  the  fact  that  there  were  Yankees 
between  us  and  the  pulpit  prevented  firing  for  we 
met  hand  to  hand  in  a  death  grapple.  I  have  seen 
battles,  yet  nothing  like  that;  it  was  as  though 
beasts  of  the  jungle  fought;  men  struggled  with 
naked  hands,  struck  death  blows,  fired  into  each 
other's  faces,  trampled  over  writhing  bodies,  cursing, 
or  yelling  defiance  as  they  fell.  We  scarcely  knew 
friend  from  foe,  blue  from  gray.  I  cannot  even  tell 
what  occurred  to  myself  in  those  breathless  moments. 
I  know  I  fought  madly,  blindly  —  again  and  again 


374  The  Red  Mist 


sweeping  a  space  clear  with  my  weapon;  hands 
gripped  my  throat,  my  hair,  and  I  tore  loose ;  fingers 
clutched  at  my  legs,  but  I  kicked  free.  I  was  con- 
scious of  blows,  of  wounds;  I  knew  when  Harwood 
fell,  and  was  trampled  under  foot;  I  heard  O'Hare 
scream;  I  saw  the  hated  face  of  Anse  Cowan  in  the 
ruck  and  leaped  for  him,  but  who  my  mad  blow 
struck  I  could  not  tell.  Some  rush,  some  quick 
pressure  of  bodies,  hurled  me  side-wise,  caught  me 
in  a  vise;  I  tripped  over  a  dead  man,  staggered  to 
my  feet  again.  I  got  footing  on  the  pulpit  platform, 
and  held  it  for  an  instant,  my  gun-barrel  crashing 
into  the  mass  of  faces  below.  Wharton  joined  me, 
a  bull  mad  with  rage;  I  saw  him  rend  the  pulpit 
stand  from  the  floor,  and  hurl  it  with  all  his  strength 
into  the  ruck.  Then  twenty  hands  gripped  him, 
hauling  him  down,  a  clubbed  musket  descended,  and 
the  sergeant  pitched  forward  like  a  log  of  wood. 
There  was  a  shot,  the  blow  of  a  rifle  barrel,  and  I 
went  down,  the  very  breath  of  life  seemingly  knocked 
out  of  me. 

I  fell  on  the  platform,  back  of  where  the  pulpit 
desk  had  stood,  and  a  body  lay  across  me.  If  I  lost 
consciousness  it  was  for  no  more  than  an  instant,  yet 
my  whole  body  felt  numbed  and  useless.  I  could 
scarcely  move  my  fingers  to  unclasp  them  from  the 
gun-barrel,  and  every  breath  I  drew  was  in  pain. 


The  End  of  Defense  375 

Still  I  realized  all  that  happened,  distinguished 
voices,  and  the  shuffling  of  feet  on  the  puncheon 
floor.  I  heard  Fox  shouting  orders,  as  the  mad 
hubbub  ceased. 

"  That's  enough !  that's  enough,  men !  It's  ail 
over  with.  Here,  Sergeant,  round  up  those  prisoners ; 
God  knows  there  are  few  enough  of  the  poor  devils 
left.  Guard  those  able  to  walk  outside.  Now, 
Herzog,  carry  the  wounded  over  here.  What*? 
Why,  of  course,  you  idiot,  we  are  not  savages  — 
those  fellows  fought  like  men,  and  are  to  be  treated 
decently.  No  distinction,  mind  you.  Let  the  dead 
lie  where  they  are  till  daylight,  but  don't  overlook 
a  wounded  man.  Where's  Cowan"?  does  anybody 
know?" 

"  Shot,  sir;  he's  here  in  this  pile  somewhere." 

"  See  if  the  fellow  is  alive.  Who  is  his  lieu- 
tenant? " 

"I  am,  sir;  my  name's  Kelly." 

"  Well  get  your  damn  crew  of  scoundrels  out  of 
here,  what's  left  of  them.  Do  you  hear!  This  is 
soldier  work,  and  I  want  you  fellows  outside." 

"  You  used  us  all  right  when  thar  wus  fightin'  ter 
do  —  " 

"  That's  enough,  Kelly.  I  didn't  use  you  — 
Moran  did;  and  you  can  go  to  him  with  your  com- 
plaints. I  know  how  you  treat  prisoners,  and  would 


376  The  Red  Mist 


hang  the  whole  of  you,  if  I  had  my  way.  Now  get 
out,  and  don't  answer  me  —  those  are  your  orders. 
Lieutenant  Raymond." 

"  He  was  here  a  minute  ago,  sir,"  a  voice  answered 
from  the  vestibule,  "  but  he  went  outside.  I  think 
he  was  touched  a  little  in  one  arm." 

"Pity  it  wasn't  in  the  mouth;  has  anyone  seen 
a  woman?  " 

No  one  answered. 

"  No !  that's  strange !  Here  Green,  take  a  couple 
of  men,  and  feel  your  way  along  the  walls;  Jasper 
make  a  light  of  some  kind  —  who  wants  me1? 
Colonel  Moran*?  Tell  him  I  am  the  only  officer  pres- 
ent, and  I  can't  leave.  By  God!  the  place  is  a 
shamble !  " 

The  searching  party  was  to  the  right  of  me, 
against  the  black  shadow  of  the  wall.  It  was  darker 
than  ever  in  the  church,  as  though  a  cloud  obscured 
the  moon,  but  far  away  a  ruddy  glow  reflected  along 
the  beams  overhead,  as  someone  coaxed  a  reluctant 
torch  into  flames.  A  medley  of  sound  arose  all  about 
me  —  the  mutter  of  voices,  the  shuffling  of  feet, 
groans,  and  cries  for  assistance,  with  the  occasional 
thumping  of  a  musket  stock  on  the  floor,  and  the 
rattle  of  broken  glass.  This  was  my  chance,  my  one 
and  only  chance  to  slip  away  unobserved.  In  five 
minutes  more  the  searching  party  would  find  me 


The  End  of  Defense  377 

there,  and  bear  me  along  with  the  others.  I  wiggled 
out  from  under  the  weight  of  the  body  lying  across 
my  legs,  and  groped  about  in  the  dark  until  my 
fingers  encountered  the  ring  embedded  in  the  floor. 
I  still  lay  thus,  conscious  of  soreness  in  every  mus- 
cle, afraid  of  attracting  some  eye  if  I  moved,  when 
a  man  leaped  onto  the  platform,  and  strode  across 
to  the  nearest  window,  his  rough  shoe  actually  graz- 
ing my  hand  as  he  passed.  I  heard  him  call  some 
order  to  those  without;  then  the  thud  of  horses' 
hoofs  to  the  left.  The  fellow  leaned  far  out,  watch- 
ing. 

There  would  be  no  better  time  than  this,  for  no 
one  else  was  within  thirty  feet  of  me,  and  the  light 
of  the  sputtering  torch  still  left  the  pulpit  platform 
in  shadow ;  Fox  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  church, 
his  sharp  voice  rasping  out  orders.  I  got  to  my 
knees,  and  lifted  the  trap  barely  far  enough  to 
squeeze  through.  There  was  a  gleam  of  light  be- 
low, sufficient  to  reveal  the  dark  outline  of  the  steps 
leading  down.  Some  eye  might  distinguish  the 
glimmer,  yet  I  thrust  my  body  through  the  narrow 
opening  noiselessly,  and  lowered  the  cover  to  the 
floor  level.  There  was  no  cry,  no  sound  indicating 
that  the  movement  had  been  observed.  I  waited  an 
instant,  crouched  breathlessly  on  the  upper  step, 
listening.  Someone  walked  across,  directly  over  my 


378  The  Red  Mist 


head  —  the  fellow  who  had  been  at  the  window,  no 
doubt  —  and  jumped  from  the  platform  to  the  floor. 
My  eyes  surveyed  those  contracted  surroundings 
curiously.  The  candle,  a  mere  fragment,  burned 
dimly  in  one  corner,  revealing  what  appeared  to  be 
the  interior  of  a  huge  box,  with  a  platform  built 
half  across  it,  its  outer  edge  protected  by  a  low  rail. 
The  wood  was  damp,  and  water-soaked,  half  way 
up,  but  there  was  no  unpleasant  odor.  A  small 
wheel  ingeniously  arranged  to  operate  a  lever,  oc- 
cupied one  end  of  the  platform,  and  directly  across 
was  an  opening  in  the  side  wall  next  the  floor,  barely 
large  enough  for  a  man's  body  to  squeeze  into. 
Nothing  else  was  visible;  no  evidence  left  of  the  two 
who  had  already  passed  that  way. 

I  slipped  down  the  steps,  and  lowered  my  body 
silently  to  the  damp  floor.  An  instant  I  peered  into 
the  dark  hole,  satisfied  that  I  could  make  the  passage, 
and  then  extinguished  the  light.  The  conduit  was 
stone-lined,  but  the  blocks  had  been  smoothly  set, 
and,  I  knew,  from  the  crisp  freshness  of  the  air, 
that  the  distance  to  be  traversed  was  short.  I  entered 
the  hole  head  first,  dragging  and  pushing  with  hands 
and  feet,  eager  to  get  quickly  into  the  open.  My 
body  so  blocked  the  opening  that  I  felt  stifled,  nor 
could  I  perceive  any  gleam  of  light  ahead,  yet  the 
passage  was  not  really  a  difficult  one,  and  almost 


The  End  of  Defense  379 

before  I  realized  the  possibility,  my  head  and 
shoulders  emerged  into  the  outer  air  and  I  hung 
suspended  over  a  rock  ledge,  staring  blindly  down 
into  the  unknown  depths  of  a  ravine.  The  ledge 
itself  was  barely  wide  enough  to  afford  foothold, 
yet  I  succeeded  in  creeping  out  upon  it,  and  then 
in  standing  upright.  The  shoulder  of  the  hill  was 
sufficiently  steep  and  high  to  shut  out  all  view  of 
the  log  walls  of  the  church,  while  below  was  a  black 
void,  out  from  which  arose  the  faint  splashing  of 
distant  water.  But  the  church  itself  must  have  been 
lit  up  by  this  time,  for  a  reddish  glow  of  light  tipped 
the  bank  above,  and  bridged  the  dark  ravine.  The 
rock  ledge  extended  to  the  right,  a  fairly  smooth 
path,  and  I  followed  it  cautiously,  finding  no  other 
available  passage.  It  led  gradually  downward,  un- 
til it  seemed  to  merge  into  a  beaten  track,  running 
directly  south  through  a  tangle  of  underbrush  not 
far  above  the  stream.  The  way  was  intensely  black, 
yet  not  difficult  to  follow  by  the  sense  of  touch,  while 
the  incessant  roar  of  the  nearby  water  blotted  out  all 
sound  from  above.  Once  I  heard  the  crack  of 
guns,  but  they  sounded  at  a  distance,  and,  looking 
up,  I  could  perceive  the  red  reflection  on  the  trees 
lining  the  bank  far  above.  But  for  these  I  was 
plunged  in  a  black  solitude,  through  which  I  must 
grope  my  way,  each  step  liable  to  plunge  me  into 


880  The  Red  Mist 


uncertain  peril.  A  hundred  yards,  two  hundred, 
and  the  trail  swerved  more  to  the  right,  and  began 
to  mount  upward,  zig-zagging  among  the  trees. 
Slowly,  cautiously,  my  head  arose  above  the  crest, 
and  the  moon,  just  peering  out  from  behind  the 
edge  of  a  cloud,  gave  me  glimpse  along  the  level 
plateau. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

WITH  NATURE'S  WEAPON 

O  THE  right  of  where  I  lay  was  the  out- 
line of  the  church,  the  windows  alight, 
several  blazing  torches,  bobbing  about 
within,  revealing  passing  figures,  al- 
though the  distance  was  too  great  to  permit  any 
sound  of  voices  reaching  my  ears.  The  rear  door, 
however,  stood  wide  open,  and  a  considerable  body 
of  men  were  grouped  there.  Straight  across  from 
me,  a  squad  of  horsemen  were  moving  northward, 
and  a  single  rider  was  spurring  rapidly  between 
them  and  the  church.  The  grove  of  trees  where  I 
was  to  meet  Nichols  and  Noreen  was  to  the  left. 
It  was  dark  and  silent,  a  shapeless  shadow,  and  the 
forest  growth  of  the  ravine  extended  far  enough 
over  the  crest  to  hide  my  approach.  Satisfied  that 
no  searching  parties  were  near  by,  I  advanced  swiftly 
along  the  edge  of  this  fringe  of  trees,  yet  taking 
every  precaution.  'Twas  well  I  did,  for  suddenly 
the  horseman  swerved,  and  rode  straight  toward 
me,  through  the  moonlight.  I  sank  down  into  the 
brush,  revolver  in  hand,  and  waited.  Once  he 
stopped,  and  called  out  something;  then  came  on 

381 


382  The  Red  Mist 

along  the  edge  of  the  wood,  walking  his  horse  slowly. 
The  rider  was  not  a  soldier,  but  beyond  that  fact, 
evidenced  by  lack  of  uniform,  I  could  make  no  guess 
as  to  his  identity,  although  I  believed  him  one  of 
Cowan's  guerrillas.  A  gun,  poised  and  ready,  forked 
out  beside  his  horse's  neck,  and  he  leaned  forward 
in  the  saddle,  peering  into  the  shadows.  A  few  feet 
beyond  me,  he  suddenly  reined  in  his  horse,  and 
called  again: 

"That  you,  Lieutenant?" 

A  single  figure  seemed  to  emerge  from  among  the 
trees  —  a  mere  shadow,  formless  and  silent. 

"  Yes;  who  are  you*?  " 

"Kelly  —  Dean  told  me  you  were  here;  the 
damn  fellow  has  got  away,  and  the  gurl  with  him." 

"  How  do  you  know1?  " 

"  We've  looked  over  every  dead  body,  the 
wounded  and  prisoners,  and  searched  every  inch  of 
the  church  —  they're  not  thar,  sir." 

"  By  God !  where  could  they  have  gone !  They 
were  there;  he  was  anyhow,  for  I  heard  his  voice. 
Did  you  talk  with  any  of  those  living4?  " 

"  Thar  ain't  many  ter  talk  ter.  The  Reb  left- 
tenant  is  a  goin'  ter  pull  thro',  I  reckon,  but  he's  hurt 
too  bad  ter  talk.  Enyhow  Fox  wouldn't  give  me  no 
chance  fer  ter  git  nigh  him.  I  asked  a  sojer,  a  young 
feller,  an'  he  sed  Wyatt  an'  the  gurl  wus  both  in 


With  Nature's  Weapon  383 

thar;  he  seed  'em  tergether  just  afore  we  charged. 
But  I'll  be  damned,  if  they're  thar  now." 

Raymond  muttered  something,  a  smothered  oath 
no  doubt,  and  then  burst  forth: 

"  Well,  good  God,  man !  They  are  both  flesh 
and  blood.  If  neither  are  there  then  they  must  have 
found  a  way  of  escape.  We  had  every  side  of  the 
church  guarded  so  a  mouse  couldn't  get  through  in 
this  moonlight  —  I  saw  to  that  myself." 

"  There  were  no  guards  on  the  east." 

"  Because  there  was  no  room  to  post  any.  The 
church  walls  are  on  the  edge  of  the  ravine;  Cowan 
said  there  were  none  needed  there." 

"Wai,"  insisted  the  other,  half  angrily.  "I 
didn't  think  so  neither,  no  mor'n  Anse  did;  but  I 
reckon  that's  whar  we  made  a  mistake.  Them  two's 
skedaddled,  an'  thar  warn't  no  chance  fer  'em  eny- 
whar  else.  Thet's  plan  'nough,  ain't  it*?  I  don't 
know  nuthin'  'bout  whut's  thar,  fur  I  never  ain't 
been  'long  thet  edge,  but  if  them  two  ever  got  out 
inter  thet  thar  ravine  they're  thar  yet,  fer  thar's  no 
way  leading  out  'cept  along  ther  trail  yonder." 

"What  trail?    Where?" 

"  Back  thar,  'bout  a  hundred  feet,  I  reckon  —  an 
oP  hog  trail  thet  leads  down  ter  the  crick.  Thar 
couldn't  nobody  cum  up  it  without  yer  seein'  'em 
from  here." 


384  The  Red  Mist 


"  And  so  you  think  they're  down  there  yet'?  " 

"Sure;  less  they  got  wings  they  couldn't  a  come 
up  no  other  way." 

The  lieutenant  strode  forward,  and  grasped  the 
rein  of  the  horse.  I  could  see  him  clearly  now, 
the  moolight  on  his  upturned  face. 

"  Then  we've  got  them,  all  right,"  he  asserted,  a 
new  confidence  in  his  voice.  "  You  know  the  way 
down,  don't  you,  Kelly*?  " 

"Hell,  yes;  I  hid  out  thar  fer  six  weeks  onct. 
They  call  it  the  Devil's  Glen,  an',  I  reckon  tain't 
a  bad  name  neither." 

"All  right  then;  I've  got  three  men  here  who'll 
go  with  you.  That  will  be  enough.  I'll  stay  up 
here,  so  if  the  fellow  slips  by  I'll  nab  him.  Jones  — 
all  of  you  come  here.  Come,  Kelly,  there's  a  hun- 
dred dollars  in  this  for  you." 

"  By  God !  it's  worth  it,  fer  somebody's  liable  ter 
get  shot."  He  rolled  out  of  the  saddle,  but  with 
evident  reluctance.  "  I  reckon  I'll  let  one  o'  them 
sojers  go  ahead.  Yer  must  want  thet  Reb  power- 
ful bad,  Lef tenant*? " 

"  I  do,"  grimly,  "  dead  or  alive." 

Three  other  figures  joined  them;  they  were  on 
foot,  but  I  could  see  the  guns  in  their  hands,  and 
the  gleam  of  buttons  in  the  moonlight.  Raymond 
spoke  swiftly,  pointing  with  one  hand,  but  his  voice 


With  Nature's  Weapon  385 

was  lowered  so  the  words  did  not  reach  me.  No 
doubt  he  was  briefly  explaining  the  plan,  and  giving 
orders.  Kelly  added  a  gruff  sentence,  and  then 
the  whole  five  tramped  past  me,  the  lieutenant  lead- 
ing the  horse,  and  Kelly  coming  so  close  to  where  I 
lay  I  could  have  touched  him  with  an  extended  hand. 
Scarcely  venturing  to  breathe  I  watched  their  passage 
along  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  until  they  halted  at  the 
point  where  I  had  come  up  the  trail.  They  remained 
grouped  there  for  a  moment,  talking  earnestly;  then 
the  shadow  formed  disintegrated,  and  Raymond  and 
the  horse  alone  remained  distinguishable.  I  knew 
the  others  had  disappeared  in  the  blackness  of  the 
ravine,  and  that  they  were  destined  to  search  its 
depths  in  vain,  for  what  little  trail  I  might  have 
left  in  my  crawl  upward  could  never  be  deciphered 
in  that  darkness.  I  waited  motionless  for  what 
I  believed  to  be  ten  minutes,  anxious  that  the  fel- 
lows get  far  enough  down  to  be  safely  beyond  ear- 
shot. At  first  I  could  hear  them  slipping  and 
stumbling  along  the  steep,  stony  path,  but  these 
sounds  grew  fainter  and  finally  ceased.  The  lieu- 
tenant led  the  horse  back  a  few  yards,  and  fastened 
his  rein  securely  to  the  limb  of  a  tree;  then  took 
his  own  position  within  the  brush  shadow,  where  he 
could  watch  the  head  of  the  trail.  From  where  I 
crouched  I  could  no  longer  see  the  fellow. 


386  The  Red  Mist 


I  had  no  thought  of  going  on,  and  leaving  him 
there  on  guard.  Not  only  did  I  feel  an  overwhelming 
desire  to  punish  the  man  for  his  treachery  and  in- 
solence, but  I  wished  to  gain  possession  of  the  horse. 
Such  an  opportunity  as  this  was  the  gift  of  God, 
and  I  was  only  too  eager  to  accept  it.  The  wide 
plain  in  front  of  us  was  deserted,  the  cavalry  troop 
having  disappeared.  The  glare  of  torches  had  dis- 
appeared from  within  the  church,  which  was  now  a 
mere  shapeless  shadow  in  the  moonlight.  My  vision 
did  not  extend  to  the  road  in  front,  but  there  were 
sounds  indicating  that  the  Federal  forces  were  either 
going  into  camp,  or  preparing  to  resume  their  march. 
Satisfied  that  my  own  way  was  clear,  I  crawled  out 
to  the  edge  of  the  line  of  brush;  and  arose  silently 
to  my  feet.  To  reach  Raymond  I  would  have  to 
pass  where  the  horse  was  tied,  and  to  approach  on 
hands  and  knees  would  be  liable  to  frighten  the  ani- 
mal. Trusting  that  the  lieutenant's  whole  attention 
would  be  devoted  to  the  trail,  and  that  he  would 
anticipate  no  approach  from  behind,  I  walked 
straight  forward,  and  laid  hand  on  the  horse's  head. 
He  smelt  of  me  curiously,  but  made  no  noise,  and, 
looking  across  his  back,  I  could  dimly  perceive  the 
man  a  few  paces  beyond.  He  stood  erect,  his  back 
toward  me,  perfectly  motionless,  his  entire  conscious- 
ness concentrated  on  his  guard.  I  stole  forward  step 


With  Nature's  Weapon  387 

by  step,  noiselessly.  I  was  actually  within  reach 
of  him,  before  some  sense  told  him  of  my  near  pres- 
ence, and  he  wheeled  about  only  to  find  a  leveled 
revolver  staring  him  in  the  eyes. 

"  We  meet  again,"  I  said  coldly,  "  and  it  seems  to 
be  my  luck  to  hold  the  cards." 

"  You !    Good  God !    I  thought  —  " 

"  I  know  what  you  thought,  for  I  was  within  ten 
feet  of  you  when  you  talked  with  Kelly.  Put  up 
your  hands,  Raymond!  Yes,  of  course,  but  don't 
attempt  any  play  —  I  only  need  an  excuse  to  hurt 
you." 

He  glared  at  me  savagely,  yet  his  hands  went  up, 
although  I  could  see  him  glance  backward  over  one 
shoulder  into  the  darkness  of  the  ravine. 

"  You  might  make  the  jump,"  I  said,  drawing  a 
revolver  from  his  belt,  "  but  to  my  best  judgment 
there  is  a  hundred  foot  sheer  drop  right  here,  and 
it  would  damage  you  some  to  take  it.  See,"  and  I 
tossed  the  weapon  over  the  edge,  and  we  heard  the 
sound  as  it  struck  on  the  rocks  below.  "  I  guess 
you'll  not  try  that  trick.  And  so  you  want  me  so 
badly  you  offer  a  reward,  dead  or  alive?  Isn't  it 
rather  my  wife  you  want?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  she  is  your  wife." 

"  Not  after  she  gave  you  her  word !  That  is 
hardly  complimentary  to  the  lady,  Lieutenant. 


388  The  Red  Mist 

However  I  haven't  any  reason  to  be  jealous  of  you 
'" —  Noreen  knows  you  too  well  by  this  time ;  you 
proved  yourself  a  treacherous  cur  in  Lewisburg. 
Now  turn  around !  " 

There  was  no  other  weapon  in  his  belt,  and  it 
never  occurred  to  me  that  he  might  possess  another 
secreted  in  his  jacket;  nor  did  I  realize  the  desperate 
hatred  of  me  which  gave  him  reckless  courage.  What 
to  do  with  the  fellow  obsessed  my  mind ;  I  possessed 
nothing  to  securely  bind  him  with ;  I  could  not  leave 
him  free,  nor  had  I  any  desire  to  take  him  along 
with  me.  He  settled  the  problem  himself.  Sud- 
denly, his  arms  above  his  head,  his  eyes  on  mine, 
he  kicked  viciously,  the  heavy  shoe  striking  my  wrist, 
sending  the  revolver  I  held  spinning  into  the  grass 
a  dozen  feet  away.  With  almost  the  same  move- 
ment he  was  tugging  at  his  jacket  pocket.  I  saw  the 
gleam  of  steel,  and  gripped  his  fingers  just  in  time; 
my  other  hand,  numbed  by  the  blow  dealt  me,  was, 
for  the  instant,  useless,  yet  I  struck  him  with  my 
elbow  full  in  the  face.  I  had  no  grip  that  would 
hold,  yet  it  tangled  the  revolver  in  the  folds  of  cloth 
so  he  could  not  draw,  and,  with  a  snarl  of  baffled 
rage,  he  tore  his  fingers  loose,  and  clutched  at  my 
throat  with  both  hands.  Back  and  forth  we  swayed 
on  the  very  edge  of  the  ravine,  kept  from  plunging 
down  into  the  black  depths  by  the  intervening  fringe 


With  Nature's  Weapon  389 

of  trees,  savagely  contending  for  the  mastery.  That 
he  was  a  trained  athlete,  acquainted  with  every 
wrestler's  trick,  I  knew  in  a  moment,  yet  this  gave 
me  little  fear  —  for  this  was  to  be  a  fight,  no  wrest- 
ling game.  Strong,  quick,  agile  as  the  man  was,  I 
never  doubted  I  was  his  match,  and,  as  I  felt  strength 
come  back  into  my  numbed  hand,  and  realized  that  I 
could  clinch  it  again,  I  felt  coldly  confident.  Once, 
twice,  I  drove  my  knuckles  into  his  exposed  face, 
compelling  him  to  loosen  grip,  and  throw  up  his 
hands  in  protection.  And  then  I  had  him ;  not  that  he 
was  devoid  of  skill  as  a  boxer  —  sooth  he  possessed 
tricks  of  defense  unknown  to  me  —  but  his  was  the 
professional  knowledge  of  the  West  Point  gym, 
while  I  had  graduated  from  the  rough  school  of  the 
camp;  where  he  had  trained  for  points,  for  fancy 
milling,  I  had  fought  to  win  against  desperate  oppo- 
nents. The  difference  told,  for  I  beat  him  down, 
caring  nothing  for  what  blows  reached  me,  so  that  I 
smashed  in  through  his  guard,  and  landed.  Again 
and  again  I  feinted  with  my  right,  and  drove  my  left 
straight  to  the  exposed  jaws.  I  gave  him  no  time  to 
cry  out,  to  even  catch  a  full  breath.  There  was  no 
sound  to  be  heard  a  hundred  feet  away.  I  became  a 
machine,  grimly  determined,  a  desire  to  punish 
throbbing  in  my  veins.  He  fought  cat-like  and 
foul,  but  I  only  laughed,  and  angered  him.  I  drove 


390  The  Red  Mist 


him  out  into  the  open  where  I  could  see  better.  I 
was  fighting  now,  with  no  thought  of  protecting 
myself,  only  of  hurting  him.  I  tried  for  a  knock-out 
but  he  blocked  me,  clinging  desperately  to  my  arm. 
I  tore  loose  once  more,  flinging  him  aside  bewildered 
and  breathless. 

"  Now,  Raymond,"  I  said,  "  that  trick  doesn't 
work  a  second  time.  Stand  up  to  it,  you  coward! 
You  wanted  a  fight,  and  you  are  going  to  have  one. 
What!  the  gun  again*?  I  guess  not." 

He  had  jerked  it  out  before  I  reached  him,  but 
my  hand  closed  over  his  —  the  hammer  fell,  digging 
into  the  flesh  of  my  thumb,  and  the  pain  maddened 
me ;  he  staggered  back  from  the  impetus  of  my  body, 
and  I  tore  loose,  the  iron  still  imbedded  in  my  flesh, 
and  struck  him.  The  pearl  handle  crashed  to  the 
side  of  his  head,  tearing  my  hand  in  jagged  wound, 
but  he  went  over,  dropping  to  the  grass  as  if  dead. 
He  gave  no  moan,  no  sound;  for  an  instant  his 
limbs  twitched,  and  then  he  lay  there,  curled  into  a 
ball.  I  stared  down  at  him,  panting,  scarcely  realiz- 
ing just  what  had  occurred.  An  instant  before  he 
had  been  fighting  like  a  tiger  cat,  now  he  was  a 
motionless,  grotesque  shadow.  Blood  streamed 
from  my  lacerated  hand,  and  I  bound  up  the  wound 
in  a  neckerchief  stripped  from  around  my  throat, 
hardly  conscious  of  the  pain,  my  breath  steadying, 


With  Nature's  Weapon  391 

my  muscles  growing  tense.  Then  I  bent  down,  and 
straightened  the  man  out,  upturning  his  face  to  the 
moon.  He  was  not  dead  —  there  was  a  beat  to  his 
pulse ;  but  the  gash  on  his  head  was  an  ugly  one ;  he 
would  have  a  scar  there  while  he  lived.  He  lay 
like  a  dead  man,  his  face  ghastly,  his  thin  lips  drawn 
back  from  his  teeth,  and  seemingly  breathless.  But 
for  that  faint,  barely  perceptible  throb  of  the  pulse, 
I  would  have  thought  him  killed. 

And  now  what1?  Kelly,  and  his  followers,  would 
not  be  gone  long  exploring  the  depths  of  the  ravine 
—  an  hour  at  most  would  take  them  over  every 
inch  of  it.  We  must  have  more  of  a  start  than  that. 
There  were  troops  yonder.  Fox  would  never  worry 
over  the  disappearance  of  Raymond,  but  Moran 
might;  and  he  was  in  command.  There  was  a  squad 
of  horsemen  out  there  now,  beyond  the  comer  of  the 
church,  and  riding  southward  —  they  might  be  in 
search  of  the  missing  lieutenant  and  his  three  troop- 
ers. I  dare  not  leave  the  fellow  where  he  was  to 
recover  consciousness,  and  give  an  alarm,  or  be  dis- 
covered by  others.  There  were  two  things  possi- 
ble to  do  —  to  roll  the  body  into  the  ravine,  or  bear 
it  with  me.  The  first  would  be  murder ;  the  second  a 
tax  upon  my  physical  strength  which  I  might  not 
withstand.  Yet  there  was  no  other  way,  but  to  try 
the  experiment. 


392  The  Red  Mist 


I  tossed  the  discarded  revolver  into  the  bushes, 
and  struggled  with  the  limp  body  until  I  was  able 
to  rise  to  my  feet  with  the  unconscious  man  dangling 
across  my  shoulder.  He  was  of  good  girth  and 
weight,  but  I  succeeded  in  staggering  the  few  yards 
necessary  with  the  burden,  and  then  hoisted  him 
across  the  saddle,  head  and  heels  dangling.  The 
horse  snorted  and  circled  to  get  away,  frightened  at 
his  unusual  burden,  but  I  soothed  the  animal,  and 
finally  he  sniffed  at  the  man's  legs,  and  stood  still. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE  TRAIL  TO  COVINGTON 


S  I  gripped  the  horse's  rein,  and  turned 
him  slowly  around  I  heard  a  single 
shot  fired  in  the  gorge  below,  the  sound 
echoing  among  the  rocks,  and  a  spark 
of  fire  gleamed  through  the  darkness.  It  was  far 
enough  away  to  give  me  little  concern,  yet  the  re- 
port must  have  been  heard  by  the  cavalry  squad  now 
well  out  in  the  open,  for  they  wheeled  their  horses 
and  rode  straight  toward  the  ravine.  Their  course 
would  bring  them  higher  up,  just  to  the  rear  of  the 
church,  yet,  with  suspicions  once  aroused,  'twas 
likely  they  would  patrol  the  banks,  seeking  for  some 
passage  below.  Confident  the  distance  between  us 
was  sufficient  to  hide  my  movements  so  long  as  I 
kept  well  back  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  I  led  the 
horse  forward,  advancing  as  rapidly  as  I  dared  to 
travel,  using  one  hand  to  steady  Raymond's  body 
swaying  across  the  saddle.  It  must  have  been  a 
quarter  of  a  mile,  or  more,  to  where  the  forest  spread 
out  from  the  bank  into  a  dark  tangle  of  trees,  ex- 
tending half  across  the  ridge.  The  winding  of  the 
ravine  took  me  out  of  sight  of  the  body  of  horsemen 

393 


394  The  Red  Mist 


above,  yet  I  knew  they  had  galloped  to  the 
edge  of  the  gorge,  and  were  calling  to  whoever  was 
below.  I  could  hear  the  shouts,  without  catching  the 
words,  and  even  imagined  I  distinguished  a  faint 
cry  in  return.  By  slipping  the  lieutenant's  belt  over 
the  saddle  horn,  thus  preventing  his  limp  body  from 
sliding  off,  I  urged  the  animal  to  a  sharp  trot. 

What  was  before  us  in  those  dark  woods  was 
all  conjecture  —  but  I  possessed  infinite  confidence 
in  Noreen.  The  very  silence,  coupled  with  the  fact 
that  no  sign  of  the  two  fugitives  had  been  met  with 
along  the  way,  convinced  me  that  they  had  safely 
attained  the  rendezvous,  and  were  now  there,  anx- 
iously awaiting  my  arrival.  The  time  had  not  been 
long,  and  the  girl  would  never  consent  to  proceed 
alone  with  Nichols,  until  she  had  lost  every  hope 
of  my  joining  her.  He  might  not  remain  willingly 
in  such  close  proximity  to  danger,  but  I  could  count 
on  her  to  keep  the  fellow  there  until  the  last  possible 
moment.  We  went  down  into  a  shallow  gully,  and 
then  climbed  the  opposite  bank,  having  to  force  a 
passage  through  thick  shrub,  I  pressing  the  branches 
aside  to  prevent  their  scratching  Raymond's  face. 
He  gave  utterance  to  a  groan,  and  I  lifted  his  head, 
supporting  it  on  my  shoulder  as  we  topped  the  rise. 
The  horse  shied,  and  I  caught  glimpse  of  a  shadow 
flitting  across  an  open  space. 


The  Trail  to  Covington  395 

"Noreen!" 

"Is  it  really  you"?  I  could  not  tell  —  the  horse; 
the  something  across  the  saddle." 

She  came  forward  with  a  swift  spring,  not  satis- 
fied until  her  hand  actually  touched  me. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  —  you  are  not  even  hurt1?  " 

"Not  seriously;  battered  up  a  bit  —  Nichols*?" 

"Yes,  he  is  here;  there  beside  the  tree.  Tell  me 
what  has  happened!  What  have  you  here*?  Why 
it  is  a  man,"  she  shrank  back,  "a  —  a  dead  man !  " 

"  No,  not  dead,"  I  hastened  to  explain,  unbuckling 
the  belt,  and  lowering  the  still  limp  body  to  the 
ground.  "  Here,  parson,  don't  let  the  horse  stray. 
We  cannot  waste  many  minutes  here;  there  are  cav- 
alrymen scouting  the  edge  of  the  ravine  yonder,  and 
they  may  come  as  far  as  this.  That  is  why  I  brought 
the  fellow  along  —  to  keep  him  from  being  found. 
Do  you  recognize  the  face,  Noreen  ?  " 

It  was  dark  and  shadowy  where  we  were  and  she 
was  compelled  to  bend  low  to  distinguish  the  fea- 
tures. Her  lips  gave  a  startled,  half-suppressed 
cry: 

"  Why  it  is  Lieutenant  Raymond !  You  —  you 
fought  together?  How  did  he  come  here*?  " 

"  I  think  he  suspected  we  might  manage  to  escape 
from  the  church.  He  was  more  anxious  to  capture 
me  than  he  was  to  fight  evidently,  for  I  caught  no 


396  The  Red  Mist 


glimpse  of  his  face  during  the  melee.  But  he,  and 
three  troopers,  were  hidden  at  the  edge  of  the  woods 
watching  where  the  trail  comes  up  from  the  ravine." 

"  Yes,"  breathlessly,  "  we  saw  them  come  across, 
just  after  the  torches  began  to  flare  up  inside  the 
church.  Then  later  another  man  rode  along  there." 

"  That  was  Kelly;  he  brought  word  that  we  had 
got  away.  I  was  within  ten  feet  of  them  when  they 
met.  The  lieutenant  swore  at  the  news,  and  sent 
the  four  men  down  the  trail  to  search  —  he  offered 
one  hundred  dollars  for  me,  dead  or  alive." 

She  arose  to  her  feet,  but  the  darkness  prevented 
my  seeing  the  expression  on  her  face. 

"He  did!  this  man?"  she  exclaimed,  the  horror 
of  the  thought  visible  in  the  tone.  "  Why,  what 
is  it  to  him?  I  do  not  understand  why  he  should 
exhibit  such  bitterness  —  he  was  determined  to  con- 
vict you  from  the  first.  There  was  no  feud  between 
you  two,  was  there?  " 

"  Only  Noreen  Harwood,"  I  answered,  speaking 
softly.  "But  —  look!  the  cavalry  squad  just 
passed  across  that  open  space;  they  are  riding  this 
way.  Raymond  will  revive  presently,  and  some  of 
his  men  will  find  him  here;  Kelly  will  search  as 
soon  as  he  discovers  the  man  is  missing.  Nichols, 
fasten  the  belt  about  his  arms  —  yes,  buckle  it  be- 
hind; a  notch  tighter.  You  know  the  trail?" 


The  Trail  to  Covington  897 

"I've  been  over  it  enough,"  rather  sullenly.  "  Is 
Anse  Cowan  dead?  " 

"  Yes;  but  that  doesn't  affect  you  at  present. 
You  are  going  to  guide  us  to  Covington.  Hold  the 
horse.  Now  Noreen." 

She  gave  me  her  hand,  and  I  helped  her  into  the 
saddle.  A  horse  neighed  in  the  distance,  but  my 
fingers  closed  on  the  nostrils  of  the  animal  beside  me 
in  time  to  prevent  response.  Nichols  stood  motion- 
less, a  tall,  shapeless  figure,  gazing  back  over  the 
tops  of  the  bushes.  I  drew  my  revolver,  and  touched 
him  with  it  sharply  on  the  arm. 

"  Go  on,"  I  said  quietly,  yet  with  a  threat  in 
my  voice.  "  Attempt  to  run,  or  play  any  trick,  and 
I  drop  you  in  your  tracks." 

He  turned  without  a  word,  and  silently  pushed 
a  passage  through  the  shrub  into  more  open  woods, 
and  I  followed,  grasping  the  horse's  rein.  A  hun- 
dred yards  further  along  we  came  into  a  beaten 
track,  and  began  to  mount  upward  along  a  rocky 
ridge,  where  the  moon  gave  me  good  view.  It  was 
a  scene  of  silent  desolation.  I  took  one  glance  back- 
ward, but  trees  shut  off  all  glimpse  of  the  church, 
and  the  plateau.  I  thought  I  heard  a  voice,  or  two, 
calling  afar  off,  perhaps  the  cavalrymen  again  sig- 
naling Kelly  in  the  ravine,  but  we  had  little  to 
fear  from  them.  Our  trail  could  never  be  followed 


398  The  Red  Mist 

before  morning,  and  dawn  would  be  three  hours 
away.  I  slipped  my  weapon  back  into  my  belt,  con- 
fident Nichols  would  make  no  attempt  to  desert. 
He  was  slouching  forward,  muttering  something  to 
himself  as  he  walked,  and  never  even  turned  his 
head  to  glance  behind.  I  stole  a  look  upward  at  the 
lady  in  the  saddle,  but  did  not  venture  to  address 
her.  She  sat  erect,  her  face  slightly  averted,  both 
hands  on  the  pommel.  Twice  I  glanced  upward, 
seeking  the  encouragement  of  her  eyes,  but  her 
thoughts  appeared  to  be  elsewhere,  and  I  plodded 
on,  my  heart  grown  heavy.  Beyond  doubt  she  re- 
alized now  what  the  end  was  to  be.  In  the  rush 
and  excitement  of  the  past  few  days,  her  natural 
desire  to  save  me  from  the  death  of  a  spy,  she  had 
found  no  time  for  thought,  for  consideration.  She 
had  merely  obeyed  the  swift  impulse  of  the  moment. 
But  now,  riding  this  dark  mountain  trail,  all  imme- 
diate peril  left  behind,  she  was  facing  the  future 
—  and  regret.  Her  father's  death,  her  sudden 
abandonment  of  home  and  friends,  her  disloyalty  to 
the  cause  with  which  her  sympathies  were  enlisted, 
her  forced  marriage,  came  fresh  to  her  memory  like 
haunting  phantoms.  Once,  I  thought,  she  lifted  a 
hand,  and  dashed  a  tear  from  her  eye;  and  her  head 
sank  lower,  as  though  she  would  hide  her  face.  She 
was  evidently  ashamed,  regretful,  unhappy;  if  ever 


The  Trail  to  Covington  399 

she  had  cared  for  me,  even  in  ordinary  friendship, 
that  feeling  had  changed  into  dislike  —  probably 
into  actual  hatred.  I  seemed  to  feel  the  change;  to 
comprehend  the  growing  horror  with  which  she  con- 
fronted the  future.  I  wanted  to  tell  her  that  I  un- 
derstood; that  I  sympathized;  that  I  would  never 
consent  to  stand  between  her  and  happiness.  Plan 
after  plan  flashed  through  my  mind  —  she  should  be 
free;  she  should  go  to  her  own  friends,  and  never 
see  me  again.  I  would  arrange  to  drop  out  of  her 
life  as  suddenly  as  I  had  come  into  it.  But  the 
impetuous  words  died  unuttered  on  my  lips.  Stead- 
ily we  pushed  on  through  the  darkness,  no  word  ex- 
changed between  us,  slipping  and  sliding  along  the 
rocky  trail,  following  Nichols  down  into  a  black  val- 
ley, and  then  up  again  to  a  steep,  narrow  ridge.  All 
about  us  was  the  night,  and  the  silence. 

Then  the  dawn  broke,  the  black  gloom  fading 
into  gray,  the  clouds  of  fog  in  the  deep  valley  be- 
low us  rising  slowly  until  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun 
lifted  them  to  the  mountain  tops,  reddening  the 
mist  into  grotesque  beauty,  and  revealing  the  green 
glades  beneath.  It  was  a  wild,  desolate  scene,  and 
we  paused  on  the  edge  of  what  seemed  a  sheer  preci- 
pice to  gaze.  Even  Nichols  stopped,  and  looked 
down,  pointing  to  the  ridge  of  rock  along  which  the 
barely  perceptible  trail  ran. 


400  The  Red  Mist 


"  You'll  hav'  ter  pick  yer  way  mighty  careful 
'long  thar,"  he  said  slowly.  "  'Tain't  jist  safe  fer  a 
hoss,  nohow,  but  I  reckon  he'll  pick  his  own  way  all 
right.  Thar's  a  cabin  'round  behind  that  bend  whar 
we  mout  git  a  bite  ter  eat." 

"Who  lives  there4?" 

"  A  fellar  named  Larrabee;  but  I  reckon  thar 
won't  be  noboddy  ter  horn'  but  the  ol'  woman  — 
Bill's  conscripted." 

"  Go  on  down,"  I  said  after  a  moment,  "  and  we'll 
follow  slowly.  How  far  away  is  Covington4? " 

"  'Bout  twenty  mile  —  in  the  next  valley  beyond 
them  hills." 

He  disappeared  around  a  sharp  ledge,  and  Noreen 
and  I  were  alone  —  alone,  it  seemed  to  me,  in  all  the 
world.  I  dare  not  even  look  at  her,  as  I  helped  her 
out  of  the  saddle.  Tired  from  the  long  hours  of 
riding  along  the  rough  trail,  she  staggered  slightly 
on  her  feet,  and  her  hands  clasped  my  arm.  Our 
eyes  met,  and  in  the  depths  of  hers  was  the  mist  of 
tears. 

"  Tom,"  she  said  earnestly,  her  voice  faltering. 
"  I  cannot  stand  this  any  longer.  I  —  I  must  know 
—  what  —  what  I  am  to  you*?  " 

"  To  me !  "  I  echoed,  the  blood  leaping  in  my 
veins.  "  Do  you  not  know*?  Can  you  feel  the 
slightest  doubt1? " 


The  Trail  to  Covington  401 

"Doubt!  it  is  all  doubt.  You  have  spoken  no 
word  to  guide  me.  You  married  me  to  save  me 
from  Anse  Cowan.  You  permitted  me  to  come  with 
you  because  I  would  consent  to  nothing  else.  I  do 
not  even  know  that  it  is  your  choice  that  I  go  on  be- 
side you  into  the  valley.'* 

"  Noreen,"  and  I  had  her  hands  in  mine.  "  It  is 
my  choice  that  you  go  with  me  all  the  way  through 
life  —  dear  girl,  I  love  you." 

The  long  lashes  hid  her  eyes,  but  her  cheeks  were 
crimson;  then  I  looked  down  into  the  blue  depths, 
through  the  tear  mist,  and  read  my  answer. 


THE  END 


A     000  778  945     6 


